


Westerosi Time Travellers

by kiltyr



Category: Doctor Who, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Changing relationship between Petyr and Sansa, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship/Love, Game of Thrones/Doctor Who Crossover, Platonic friendship between the Doctor and his companions, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Story behind Petyr's teleportation ability, Timey Wimey, for fun and laughter, story follows after season 6 of GoT, up rated from T to E now lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiltyr/pseuds/kiltyr
Summary: Imagine a universe where the Doctor meets Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark, and together, they explore numerous universes together. Just the Doctor, Petyr and Sansa in the TARDIS. What could possibly happen?
(Follows mostly the show, not the book.)





	1. Tele-Petyr

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw a funny tweet somewhere saying that the reason why Petyr could travel from one end of the country to the other in just an episode is because he has a TARDIS. So, I thought why not explore that alternate universe? This is just an idea I'm playing around. There is a bit of plot. The timeline for the Doctor here is just after he lost Clara Oswald. So this is before the new companion, Bill. :)
> 
> I do not own anything here except my original characters and my mistakes.

It was no secret Petyr Baelish earned many nicknames throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Famously known as Littlefinger, for his small stature and his birthplace in a spit of land called the Fingers, his nicknames often had a solid, logical backstory to it. He was known as the Master Manipulator to the many pawns he had used for his own personal gain. Few called him the King of the Ashes, convinced that he would see the realm wither and burn if he could sit on the Throne.

Aside from nicknames, Petyr Baelish also held various titles and positions in the Seven Kingdoms. The Lord of Harrenhal, given to him by the King himself, for his dubious contributions to the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Master of Coin, for his talented ability to produce gold for the Crown whenever the need arose. Protector of the Vale, a grand position given to him for wedding the Lady Arryn before her untimely death, until the young Lord Arryn came of age.

However, there was one alias for Petyr Baelish, one he unintentionally cast upon himself, born amidst whispers and drunken slurs in taverns and brothels, The _Westerosi Time Traveller._ The odd name was created by a small group of Northern commoners who suspected the low-born Lord to harness magical abilities. Particularly, the ability to travel through all of time and space. This group of commoners were close-knitted friends, who travelled together throughout the kingdom, searching for interesting gallant tales to tell their wives and children back home. They travelled to Dorne, revelling in the constant sunshine, and fine Dornish wine, having been used to the cold, stale North they call home.

The commoners were in the beautiful scenery of the Vale, basking in its clifftops and rocky mountains when they spotted Littlefinger from afar, his recognisable dark cloak giving him away. They watched as he approached the young Lord Arryn, who was carelessly shooting arrows, completely missing its intended target. They paid little attention to him, knowing well to stay away from the dangerous, spiteful man. The commoners cast one last glance at the pair, catching the moment Littlefinger surprised the little lord with a stern falcon, before moving on their own merry way.

It was two weeks later, when the group arrived just South of the Wall, after travelling long and hard up from the Vale. They decided to stop by a small tavern, desiring a few rounds of good ol’ ale and a much needed rest before heading back home. With cool ale fogging their mind, they were eager to return home, bursting with stories to tell their loved ones about their long travels.

One of them was staring at the wooden surface before him, making crescent-shaped water marks with the bottom of his cup on the table. He felt his heavy eyelids, protesting for a long night of uninterrupted sleep having captured the beautiful sights of Westeros and Dorne. But before he could rise up and announce his retirement for the evening, the conversation the table next to theirs was having caught his attention, alerting his hazy mind. Specifically, the mention of sighting someone he had seen recently.

“-yeah, wonder what he was doing here, up so far North.” One of them said, curiosity laced in his gruff voice.

 “A small man like him couldn’t possibly stand the harsh weather up here.” The one deep in his cups snickered.

 “Shh, ‘nough talk about Littlefinger. Nothin’ interestin bout ‘im anyway.”

Feeling curious, the commoner strode over to the now quiet table. If he had heard correctly and was not just too deep into his cups, they said that Littlefinger had been around the Wall two weeks ago. Around the same time he had spotted him in the Vale. Scratching his unwashed curly hair, he cleared his throat. “Sorry fellas, couldn’t help but overhear talk about Littlefinger?”

The three burly man turned to him, eyebrows raised with a slight sneer. “What’s it to you?”

The man chuckled, with palms up in a surrendering gesture. “Nothin’. Just that I saw him just two weeks ago at the Vale, with the young Lord Arryn.”

One of them burst out in laughter, slamming his palm on the table, slightly spilling his ale. “Impossible! We saw him two weeks ago on a Thursday around Mole’s Town. Strange place to be innit? Being torn down and all.” He nudged his friend, who nodded, disinterested.

The commoner couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _It can’t be. He was in the Vale. How can he be up North just a day later? They must have the wrong man._

Still, he wanted to be sure, for whatever reason, that he had not just been hallucinating in the Vale.

“Ha ha... we’re talking about the dark cloaked Littlefinger right? Bloke with grey temples and a beard?”

This time, the brute who had been laughing stopped, with a serious look on his face. “Aye, that’s ‘im. Why are ye so interested anyways?”

The man shook his head, his mind clearing. “It can’t be. I saw him on a Wednesday in the Vale. Two weeks ago. I travelled all the way here with my mates, without unnecessary rest. Even without any rest, it’d take us at least five days to get here.”

The two men stared at each other. Before the same brute erupted into more laughter. “Ye don’t think the little man possesses magical powers eh? Time travelling powers?”

“Is there any other plausible reason he could travel from one end of the country to another, within just a day?”

The brute smiled, as if he had just struck rich with a best-selling story. “Hah! Who would’ve known? Littlefinger, the Westerosi Time Traveller!”

From that day on, stories of Littlefinger, the Westerosi Time Traveller spread across the North like Wildfire. The many different versions of how he came across his magical powers brought awe to some and simply laughter and joy to others.

Some said he came across a fallen star one night, and discovered a magical pocket watch, which latched onto his coat immediately, enabling the man to travel through time and space.

Others said it was the Mockingbird pin he wore everywhere which held all the power. The story entailed that a dark, witch had given it to him when he was a young boy. Having pitied his small frame for a boy, the witch had bestowed time travelling powers upon him, to make up for the lack of muscle.

Eventually, these ridiculous whispers travelled to the Castle of Winterfell, and right into Sansa Stark’s ear. She had overheard the chambermaids giggling in a corner one foggy morning while breaking her fast in her chamber, and asked them what was so amusing. Sansa had never heard anything more ludicrous in her life.

Sansa looked around the castle and pondered for a moment. She had nothing to do in these walls besides be the Lady Stark of Winterfell, while her _brother_ oversaw the political side of matters. Swallowing her last bit of breakfast, she decided to pay a visit to the man of these absurd whispers.

 

____________________

 

Petyr was staring down into his Northern breakfast - rough bread with cold beans and a suspicious looking sausage on the side. His teeth involuntarily chattered and Petyr cursed. How he wished he was back in the warm air of Kings Landing. He stood up and approached the raging fire, abandoning his breakfast. _Doubt it would satisfy my appetite anyway._ He sat by his fire, rubbing cold numb hands together, hoping it would generate enough heat in his body to prevent him from pathetically dying in the cold.

Staring into the burning coals, Petyr grumbled at how he was only staying in the North for the sake of Sansa, hoping he would gain her favour soon. Petyr knew the wedge he had driven between Sansa and her half-brother was solid. The look they had shared in the dining room when Jon had been declared the King in the North proved that. Eventually, she would crack. _Soon she would come to me. It’s only a matter of time. And I can move on with the original plan._ A shiver ran up Petyr’s spine due to the freezing weather and he frowned. _As long as I don’t die of the cold before that._

Looking around the room he had been given, deep down Petyr thanked Sansa for her generosity. The room was well furnished with a nice, bed with thick furs Petyr was grateful for.

_“Jon says we should at least be hospitable to the people who aided us in battle. So I’m giving you this room, Lord Baelish.”_ Petyr smiled and was about to correct her with the use of his name when she held up her hand, indicating she hadn’t finished speaking.

_“This is Winterfell. My home. You have no power here. You should do well to remember that.”_

Petyr only smirked wider, but tilted his head down in a respectable manner nonetheless. _“Of course, Lady Sansa.”_

Sansa nodded and turned, leaving him to settle into his new temporary chambers.

He couldn’t help but add, _“is your half-brother controlling you, Sansa? You seem to be a mere puppet to him now. To the King in the North. Are you happy with how things played out for him and yourself?”_

Sansa didn’t turn around to address him, but Petyr knew all the same, that she was affected by his words.

_“Good night, Lord Baelish. I hope the bed bugs find you tonight.”_ She growled, before resuming her walk down the dim hallway.

Petyr couldn’t contain his chuckle at that. Failing to resist, he called out, _“Call me Petyr, Sansa, for heaven’s sake.”_

 

____________________

 

A groaning, whirring sound brought him out of his reverie, causing him to look around the room. He recognised that familiar sound and his heart dropped. _No. Not now._ His eyes bounced frantically across the room, looking for the materialising object. _There!_

There, at the corner of his bed, fitted snugly between the edge of the bed and his wardrobe, was a blue, police telephone box. Petyr could only gape at how out of place the bright blue object was in his dull, wooden room. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at that moment. _No... no. Not now. This is bad. Why is he here? What happened?_ Feeling adrenaline course through his veins and down to his legs, Petyr bolted up and rushed to the blue box, otherwise known as the TARDIS. _Seven Hells, Doctor!_


	2. Doctor who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine a universe where the Doctor meets Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark, and together, they explore numerous universes together. Just the Doctor, Petyr and Sansa in the TARDIS. What could possibly happen?
> 
> (Follows mostly the show, not the book.)

Seamlessly opening the door, Petyr stepped into the TARDIS, looking for the Doctor. Blinking lights and strange noises greeted him once again, awakening a pleasant flutter in his chest. He still mulled over how miraculously bigger it was on the inside, almost the size of a whole house. But to passersby outside, it was simply an ordinary, four-foot tall, police box. If asked to explain the physicality of it, Petyr could only resort to shrugging his shoulders, and say, "it's timey-wimey stuff," a term he learned from the Doctor. Craning his head around to absorb the familiarity of the TARDIS, Petyr couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile. The bookshelves, recliner, and of course, the central control panel in the middle were definitely a welcome sight.

He vividly remembered sitting in the recliner, reading a book titled _‘Developing the leader within you’_ by a man called John C. Maxwell. _To prepare myself when the time comes_ , he had told the Doctor with a smirk when questioned with his choice of reading material. He had learnt quite a bountiful from reading the book, although he didn’t quite agree with parts of what the author said, like how followers would only follow and respect a leader if he were to provide them with their best interests at heart even when it hurts them personally. _Utter rubbish._ He thought. _Just give them a few hundred gold dragons and a death threat and they will all follow._

Petyr strolled towards the panel and ran his fingers through the blinking dials and colourful buttons and levers. Until now, he thought it was all a dream, travelling with the Doctor. He had seen things beyond his wildest imagination, visited planets he had never thought existed, lived through heroic tales he thought were a myth. Shaking his head, Petyr almost let out a childish giggle. Once, they had travelled to a planet where its inhabitants threw a grand celebration for every single possible achievement, no matter its severity. If there was a newborn, they’d celebrate; if someone overcame their fear of tickling, they’d celebrate. Petyr distinctively recalled drinking a mysteriously soothing alcoholic concoction that was handed to him by a violet-skinned creature with three eyes and eight hands. It was the only time Petyr allowed himself to be inebriated, without worrying about anyone foiling his plans. 

Walking around the TARDIS, he recalled that as a young boy, before Catelyn Tully and Brandon Stark came along, he had always thought of travelling the world when he grew up. _To become a famous explorer_ , like all those adventurers and their grand stories Petyr used to read when he was a child. He remembered even drawing pictures of himself travelling in strange contraptions he had conjured up to travel around the world. But as he grew older, Petyr lost sight of that ambitious goal, knowing it was all but a ridiculous, unattainable reach. Brandon Stark helped him realise that. After slashing him almost in half, Petyr came to a startling realisation that, aside from true love and the stories of the small hero saving damsels in distress, travelling around the vast, beautiful unknown was only a frivolous venture for naive boys. Instead, he turned to a more realistic, reachable goal, the Game.

But then, one fine day when he was walking in Kings Landing, after having a dreadful, scheming talk with Cersei Lannister, promising he wouldn’t rest until the Lannister name was rising above all else, he bumped into an eccentric man who was dressed in the most odd manner. He wore two pieces of tunic, an inner white and an outer black tunic, around his upper torso, which had a funny looking excess amount of fabric attached to the back of it, big enough to fit a head. The man had also worn the most intriguing pair of breeches. They were checkered and looked unnecessarily tight around his legs. Eyes travelling further down his figure, Petyr found he was only more surprised at the footwear he wore. They looked almost similar to the boots knights wore, only that it wasn’t made of metal, and was black, and had laces on them. It was only after that day that he found it were pieces of twenty-first century fashion, called a t-shirt, hoodie, jeans and boots. _How peculiar._

But Petyr realised that day, that it was only going to get stranger from then on. When the man standing in front of him had opened his mouth to address him, Petyr almost thought he was possibly losing his mind.

_“Hello! I’m sorry to intrude on your walk on this fine day. But I need to ask you, where am I?”_

Petyr could only stare wide-eyed at the man, aghast. Before stuttering, _“w-what?”_

The man’s deep green eyes seemed to be old, older than the man was. As if he had seen many horrors throughout his life. He noticed his eyebrows were the most strange; they seemed almost angry-like. But his hair...Petyr wondered if he knew the concept of proper grooming. His hair was a mess. It was like a cloud atop his head, it was silver in colour, like the colour on the side of his own temples.

Before Petyr could surrender to his light-headedness, the man gripped him tightly on the shoulders and shook him back to reality.

_“Hey! I’m talking to you! Where is this place?”_

Petyr was beyond confused. Clearly, this man was not local. His speech was all wrong, his apparel was out of place, and he looked as thin as a stick insect. Perhaps he was an apparition coming to haunt him for all the terrible things he did. Petyr groaned. _Or maybe I’m just an old fool who’s losing it._ But feeling the strength of the grip on his arms, the demanding man was obviously not a spirit. Petyr had his own set of a demanding questions for the man, but seeing as how he little he knew about him and what he could do, Petyr decided he would not irritate the man.

Groggily, Petyr huffed out, squeezing his eyes closed. _“K-Kings Landing. We’re in Westeros.”_

Suddenly, the shaking stopped and Petyr thought he really had been hallucinating the whole time. Peeking, he was disappointed to see he had not at all, imagined the whole ordeal. The man reached into his pockets and pulled out a bizarre looking object. It was about six inches long, like the body of a candle. But it was made of blue metal. _What is this now?_ The man suddenly raised the object above his head and when he pressed something on it, Petyr almost jumped in shock. It emitted the most annoying noise he had ever heard. It was monotonous and deafening.

 _“This must be the medieval times then. Viking era? No, can’t be. Kings Landing? Stupid Doctor. Stupid TARDIS. Why’d she bring me here anyway?”_ The man huffed, stuffing the maddening object back into his pocket.

 _If this is my punishment for betraying everyone I have betrayed, I am so sorry._ Petyr thought glumly. Refusing to dwell on the past, he dusted himself, frowning at the man presently in front of him. “ _Who are you?_ ”

The man turned around, facing Petyr, and dug into his pocket, producing a small black flip cover. Stepping closer, he flipped it open and showed it to Petyr, who stared at it, before growling.

_“What am I supposed to see? A blank piece of parchment? How stupid do you think I am?”_

The slim man’s eyebrows shot up, taking a look at his psychic paper himself.  _“Really? Nothing? My bad, it wasn’t my intention to made you think you were stupid.”_ He kept the strange black thing before sticking his pale hand out before Petyr. _“I’m the Doctor. Pleasure to meet you.”_

Petyr warily took his hand in his grasp, shaking it. He raised his eyebrow at the Doctor. _“Doctor who?”_

The Doctor chuckled, obviously amused, and Petyr frowned, not folllowing. _“Just the Doctor. So, who are you then?”_

Petyr nodded and replied, _“Petyr Baelish.”_

The Doctor smiled, and started to walk. Without thinking, Petyr followed, his scheming forgotten. _“Can I ask what are you doing here? Where are you from? Who are you exactly? Are you looking for someone? What is this outrageous garb you are wearing? And what were those strange things you pulled out of your pockets?”_

The Doctor barked out in laughter, turning slightly towards Petyr, _“so many questions, so little time. Ha! Just kidding, time is relative for me. But I do need to get back to my TARDIS. I believe I landed in the wrong time. I was supposed to be back in the twenty-first century.”_

Petyr stopped and shook his head at the spout of nonsense the Doctor had just said. _What? TARDIS? Twenty-first century?_ Groaning, Petyr clutched his temples as he could feel a terrible headache coming.

 _“I’m sorry. What are you talking about? What’s a tahdis?”_ The Doctor sighed, not slowing down. _“Do you always ask these many questions?”_

Petyr crossed his arms. _“I do not like not knowing things.”_  The Doctor turned back to look at him, a finger to his lips. _“Well, it’s annoying. Shut up.”_ Petyr could only stare in shock. _Who is this man?_ Refusing to lose out, he threatened, _“I can summon the Royal Guards and have them take you in for interrogation, you know.”_

The Doctor paused. Petyr resisted the urge to smile smugly, thinking his threat was successfully delivered. But the next words that came out was contrary to what Petyr expected to hear. _“That’s a great idea! They take me in, I ask them questions, they tell me where my TARDIS is, I can be on my merry way!”_ The Doctor grinned at him with his arms out in front of him. _“Take me away Mr Baelish!”_

 _“What?!”_ Irritation bubbled inside of him. Petyr did not like being riled up, and it wasn’t often he was. But boy, did this Doctor man irk the living daylights out of him. When he didn’t move, the Doctor frowned. _“I do not like repeating myself, Petyr.”_

For a moment, Petyr did consider turning him into the Lannisters and be done with this whole crazy charade they were dancing about. _But turning him in would make me suspicious. I can’t have that. I can’t have the Lannisters question me._ Petyr sighed in exasperation. _It looks like I’ll be stuck with this barbarous of a man for a while._

Sighing, he relented. _“No. No guards. That would be a bad idea, I can help you find what you you are looking for. Follow me.”_

_____________________

 

Reeling back to the present, Petyr wandered through the TARDIS, looking for his _friend_. Petyr called out. “Doctor? Where are you? What are you doing here?” Petyr slid the monitor around and easily pressed the various buttons, checking the Doctor’s recent whereabouts. “Doctor? Now is not the time to go travelling, I’m afraid. I’m busy.” He looked down and murmured, “got a beautiful lady to accept my favour and all, you know.”

At the mention of said lady, Petyr heard knocking. Snapping his head up, he looked around the TARDIS, reaching for a button and switched on the TARDIS’s camera, overlooking the outside of it. Petyr stared at the screen, scanning his chamber for the source of the knocking. Suddenly, he saw the wooden door to his chamber begin to creak open, and before Petyr could think twice, he rushed out of the TARDIS and slammed his chamber door close. Hearing a feminine grunt, Petyr could only hope he hadn’t just slammed the door on his Sansa.

Silence greeted him behind the door. Pressing his ear to the cold door, he heard a low unfeminine snarl, before the voice he fell in love with growled out, “Petyr Baelish.” Petyr didn’t know if he should have felt elated or terrified that Sansa had just said his full name. Not Lord Baelish, or Baelish. But Petyr Baelish. Thinking fast, he bolted his chamber door, before rushing over to the still present TARDIS in the room. Scrambling to pull his blanket of furs off the bed, he threw it onto the TARDIS, effectively covering it from view. He didn’t have time to think about how odd it would look like and rushed back to the door, unbolting it. Taking a deep breath, he stuck his head out to see the light of his life, the fire of his loins - who he had just slammed the door on, standing outside.

“Lady Sansa! Good morning, it is such a delight to see you.” Petyr hoped he hadn’t sounded too rushed, or else Sansa would definitely notice.

She did.

“Anything the matter Lord Baelish? You seem a bit, disorientated.”

Petyr huffed out a laugh. “You are becoming an observant young lady aren’t you?” Petyr’s gaze couldn’t help but roam her entire body. She looked so beautiful, anytime of day. His gaze softened at her amber hair, itching to run his fingers through them. If it were not for the stupid box in the room, he would have gladly offered her a morning walk around the castle. Coming back to her face, he smiled hesitantly.

“Would you mind explaining to me why you just slammed the door in my face?” Petyr chuckled, before lying flawlessly, “I was just about to open the door, Sansa, when I tripped over this thick rug of yours and fell against the door.” That was the best lie he could come up with at the moment.

He could feel Sansa scrutinising his face for the lie. Sighing, she shook her head before clearing her throat. “I need to speak with you, Lord Baelish.” Petyr was surprised. Had she changed her mind about his proposition in the godswood so quick? If she did, she really had impeccable timing. Looking back at the blanket covered TARDIS, Petyr coughed. “Sure, what is it pertaining?”

Sansa raised her eyebrow before nodding into his chamber. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Lord Baelish?” Petyr panicked. _She mustn’t find out. I will literally lose my head if she does._ Switching tactics, Petyr smirked, “Why Sansa, have you changed your mind about my marriage proposal? Getting a head start, are we?” To Petyr’s dismay, Sansa scoffed. “Not what I wanted to talk to you about, Lord Baelish.”

When she tried to push past him into the room, Petyr only stood taller and blocked her. Sansa looked up, crossing her arms. “Do you have someone over, Petyr? A whore, perhaps?”

Petyr could only stare at her, appalled. “After all that we have been through together, is that what you think of me? Some sordid man who would fuck a prostitute?” Sansa looked into his dark eyes and shrugged. “After all the time we’ve spent together, what else can you be?”

Without thinking, Petyr pulled her in and pushed her against the closed door, eliciting a gasp from the woman before him. He placed one of his arms above her head, resting his other hand on the curve of her slim waist. His knee was wedged in between her legs, effectively trapping her in place. For a few heartbeats, he held her loosely in place, giving her time to escape if she wished. When she didn't, Petyr leaned into her ear, momentarily overwhelmed by how sweet she smelled, and whispered, “I am not that man, Sansa. You know that. You are the only one who matters to me. Do you not believe me?” He leaned back and stared at her deep blue eyes, awaiting her answer with bated breath. Up close, he could see her light freckles on her pale cheeks, the small puffs of cold air escaping her trembling lips. Sansa looked at him with almost a perfected poker face, but alas, he could see a hint of vulnerability beneath her facade. It was one, two more heartbeats, before she gave a firm nod. _That’s my girl._

Seizing the opportunity, Petyr’s eyes slid shut as he leaned in for a kiss. Only to be stopped by her warm gentle hand on his chest, once again. _Dammit._ Sighing, he opened his eyes, gazing into hers. “Tell me, are you ever going to give us a chance?” Sansa eyes roamed, from his stare, to his lips, to around the room, before back to him. Sansa was just about to answer him when her wandering gaze caught something.“What is that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't watch Doctor Who:
> 
> The buzzing six inch thing the Doctor pulled out is called a Sonic Screwdriver. It scans almost anything, except for wood. It also has various uses (like lock-picking).
> 
> The psychic paper is just a blank white card that has special properties. It induces the seer to see whatever the user wants them to see. But doesn't work on people with a lack of imagination or geniuses (hence why Petyr can't see anything on it. Because ya know, he is a genius. :P)
> 
> That's it for now, feedback is always appreciated!


	3. Sansa in the TARDIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine a universe where the Doctor meets Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark, and together, they explore numerous universes together. Just the Doctor, Petyr and Sansa in the TARDIS. What could possibly happen?
> 
> (Follows mostly the show, not the book.)

Petyr’s eyes widened at her inquisition, knowing that she was referring to the covered TARDIS in the room. He mentally slapped himself for foolishly bringing her, in his heat of anger, to the very last place in the whole of Seven Kingdoms he wanted her to be. _Stupid man._ Lost for words, Petyr shifted until he blocked her line of sight. “What is what?” He attempted.  Sansa looked at him with a raised eyebrow, before shifting her head over his shoulder and pointed. “That, Petyr. That huge thing in the room. I know it wasn’t there before you moved in. Are you hiding something?” Petyr wanted to smile and tease her for finally calling him by his first name without malice laced in her voice, but given the circumstances, he didn’t think it would do much good for him.

Staring at Sansa, he contemplated showing her the TARDIS. He was tempted to show her the magical travel machine. He knew she would be entranced with it; he knew he was the first time he stepped into it. He smiled inwardly as a naughty unbidden thought came across his mind. _Courting her by using the TARDIS would definitely get her in my bed._ Nobody could resist the charm of travelling across galaxies and dimensions. Petyr could already picture taking Sansa out to a foreign planet, having a relaxing picnic with her as they watched the Earth from afar. It would beat any date. Her future suitors wouldn’t even stand a chance. But if he did reveal his secret he’d kept hidden all these months, there was a chance she would run and never speak to him again. Or worse, kill him for being a lunatic travelling with another idiot in a box.

Sansa cleared her throat, and Petyr realised he had not responded. He also realised, with utmost satisfaction, that she had not made to move away from him despite her suspicions. With a quick lie, he answered, “uh... That, is a statue of a knight in shining armour.” He absently caressed her slim waist with his thumb, smiling fondly at her handmade dress. Sansa crossed her arms with an expectant look. Feeling compelled to elaborate, Petyr fished out a quick story behind the statue. “I bought it, while I was in the Vale. Apparently, it was from the time of Robert’s Rebellion. Worth quite a fortune, I must add. I bought it, because I know how much you wished there was a knight in shining armour for you.” Petyr gave her a tight smile, before continuing. “Unfortunately, I was unable to locate a real knight in shining armour worthy of you, so I got the next best thing.”

“A statue?” Sansa deadpanned. Petyr nodded slowly, his lips tilted in amusement. At the back of his mind, he knew Sansa would never believe him, but it was still amusing to watch the confusion and slight irritation behind her blue orbs.

Sansa feigned shock, before breaking out into an uncharacteristically wide smile. “Do you honestly think I would buy that lie? Oh dear, Lord Baelish, I fear you must be slipping.” Petyr sighed, dropping his head. He just had to accept the fact that he could no longer lie to her face. _Gone are the days I could easily serve her a story._ “Well, I tried.”

Patting him lightly on the side of his abdomen, Sansa pushed him gently away from her, and stepped further into the room, approaching the covered object. “So, I wonder what this could be? Maybe it is a cage to put me in when you kidnap me.” Before Petyr could retort, Sansa turned around, and laughed at his pursed lips and knitted brows. “I am only japing, Petyr. I trust you would not hold me against my will.” He couldn’t help but smile at that.

When Sansa got within a foot away from the TARDIS, Petyr’s instinct kicked in and he moved until he was once again blocking her. Laying his hands on her shoulders, Petyr whispered, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Sansa, I can’t let you go beyond.” He looked at her pleadingly, hoping to convey that he had no choice but to refrain from letting her discover what lay beneath the blanket.

Sansa let out a nervous laughter, her sarcasm and confidence from before vanishing, replaced with vulnerability and dread he had seen before. Flashbacks from their conversation in the crypts beneath Winterfell flooded his mind. He remembered her reluctance to be left alone with the Bolton family then, afraid she wasn’t strong enough to handle them, to handle Ramsay. Petyr had told her she would be strong without him, promising her the North. And she believed him.  Well, she did get the North, just not how he had pictured it. _And at a grave cost of violation of her body. Only to have her half-brother be crowned as the King in the North._ He thought, distastefully. Petyr knew he would never ever forgive himself for carelessly leaving Sansa into the hands of a sadistic man.

“Why? What is it, Petyr?” Her surprisingly strong voice brought him out of his sombre thoughts. Petyr didn’t want to lose whatever little trust had been rebuilt between them, if there was at all, not after all the effort he put in. Torn between guarding the secret he’d been keeping for months for the sake of preserving his own life, and keeping the trust of Sansa, Petyr sighed. “I can’t say, Sansa. I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

When Sansa started to back away from him, Petyr stepped forward with his arms outstretched. “It has nothing to do with harming you I swear it! You have to trust me.” Sansa shook her head, inching slowly toward her only exit. “I trusted you once Lord Baelish, and look at how that turned out.” Petyr winced, and was about to rebut when Sansa stopped him. “I think I have to check on my dear brother, Lord Baelish. He might need me for something. Have a good morning.” She turned, fumbling to wrench the door open.

“Sansa, please don’t -” Before he could finish, the door to the TARDIS burst open and the Doctor stepped through. “Wow, it’s a bit chilly this time in Westeros isn’t it?”

Sansa whipped around to stare at the very man Petyr dreaded her to see. “Doctor!” Petyr cried, violently waving his hands between Sansa and the Doctor with an exasperated look. The Doctor turned his attention to the two in the room, taking in their apprehensive stance before breaking out into a cheshire grin. “Oh! I’m sorry, have I stepped into a lover’s quarrel?”

Petyr cast a quick glance towards Sansa and frowned. Trust the Doctor to be inappropriate at an inappropriate time. She was frozen in place, completely immobile. _Well, at least she’s incapable of screaming and running for help._ Cautiously, Petyr stepped towards Sansa. “Sansa…” Flinching, Sansa turned to look at the man she’d just begun to trust. Anger, confusion, irritation flashed through her eyes. “Petyr? What is going on?”

Before he could react, the Doctor stepped in front of Sansa, grasping her trembling hand in his to give it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you, miss…?”

“S-s-Sansa? Sansa Stark.”

The Doctor turned to Petyr, with a grin gracing his features. “Stark? I know quite a few Starks in my lifetime. So Petyr, is this your…” The Doctor gestured wildly to every part of Sansa, “girlfriend then?”

Petyr took a deep breath, wishing with every bone in his body that they were not in the current predicament. Sighing, he started the introduction. “Sansa, this is the Doctor. I assure you, there is no evil intent here, from either of us. He won’t hurt you. And no Doctor, Sansa is not my girlfriend.” The Doctor laughed. “Hurt you? Believe me, that is the last thing I’d ever do.”

“I cannot believe this. Lord Baelish, you will answer me now. What exactly are you playing at? Why is he dressed like...that? Where did he come from?” Sansa glared at Petyr. Petyr shook his head and gripped her shoulders lightly. “I’m not playing anything, Sansa. Please, believe me,” he whispered desperately. Sansa’s eyes darted between Petyr and the Doctor, struggling to make light of the situation.

The Doctor looked between the two, observing. Obviously the girl did not trust him or Petyr. It was time to step in. Mumbling a “here we go again,” he turned around and opened the door to the TARDIS. “Exhibit A.”

The tension spell between Petyr and Sansa broke, as her attention snapped to the eccentric man in the room. Petyr watched her almost yelp at the sight before her. She had not noticed the TARDIS until then, still befuddled with the man with the fluffy hair. The Doctor gave him a firm nod. Sliding one hand from her shoulder down to the crook of her elbow, he held out his other hand towards her.  “Let me show you, Sansa. Do you trust me?”

Sansa looked down to Petyr’s open palm with furrowed brows. A moment later, she asked through a hoarse voice, “do I have a choice?” Petyr sighed, rubbing his hand up and down on her shoulder, comforting her. “Of course you do. But bear in mind, if you leave this room now, nobody will believe what you saw today. Everyone will think you lost your mind.” Sansa caught his gaze. And with a shaky voice, she whispered, “and if I don’t leave this room?” Petyr attempted to give her his most reassuring smile. “Then I will show you a whole other universe. A whole other side to this wretched world we live in. A beautiful, wondrous side. Trust me when I say you will be elated after what I show you.”

“Trust you with my happiness?” She scoffed. Petyr didn’t try to hide the look of hurt at her words. If she noticed, she didn’t show.

Sansa hummed, before breaking into a small smirk. “Even more elated than when I killed Ramsay?” In front of them, the Doctor perked up at her words. “I’m sorry, what? Did you just say you killed someone?” Petyr waved dismissively at the Doctor, maintaining his focus on Sansa with a genuine look on his face. “Yes. Even more elated than that.”  

“O...kay. I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say you killed someone. Because it doesn’t really concerns me. Because I didn’t come all the way here to show your girlfriend the universe, Baelish. I came here, because I need your help. So can you hurry up, please?”

Petyr growled and turned to the Doctor throwing his hands up in frustration. “Would you give me a minute, Doctor? I’m trying to convince her to trust us! You wouldn’t want the calvary to be called upon us do you?” Sansa brought Petyr’s face back to hers with a slim finger, and raised an eyebrow. He could see a tint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Losing your composure, Lord Baelish? I never thought I would see that day.” Petyr huffed out a tired smile. “Trust me, with this man here, anybody would be bound to lose their composure sooner or later.”

Turning around to the odd man out in the room, Petyr negotiated with the Doctor. “Look Doctor, I promised Sansa I would let her experience a part of what we have been doing these past months. Let me do that, and I will help you with whatever you need help with.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Fine by me. Come on! Come on! Enough standing around here, let’s go!” Petyr smiled as excitement bubbled inside. _Another adventure. This time, I get to share it with Sansa._ However, turning around to her, he found that she was frowning deeply. He called her. She looked up and gestured at the chamber door. “What if Jon realises I’m gone?” Petyr grinned broadly. Shaking his head, he tugged her hand towards him and towards the waiting TARDIS. “Not to worry about that, we have time on our side. We will be back right where and when we leave."

At Sansa’s confused look, Petyr chuckled and tugged on her wrist more insistently. “Come, Sansa. Do not worry. If there is anything you can trust me with, it’s that you can trust your safety with the Doctor.” It was as if something clicked into place, and all the doubt and wariness from her mind cleared. Sansa smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “Alright. Show me this magical, wondrous side of the world, Lord Baelish.”

Petyr failed to conceal the joy he felt when she initiated hand-holding with him. _Nice one, Baelish. Don’t fuck it up now._ Petyr tugged her into the waiting TARDIS, and waited patiently for Sansa to absorb its magic and wonderment.

The Doctor, who was busy clicking dials and flipping switches at the panel, noticed the pair walk in. He smiled as he waited for their new companion to say -

“It’s bigger on the inside?!”

Petyr chuckled, her hand still tightly grasping his. The Doctor turned around with a wide grin plastered on his face. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed!” Sansa looked around wildly, a giggle escaping. Petyr relished at the sweet sound of that. “But, how can that be? It is logically impossible!” Running around the panel, the Doctor pressed buttons into the computer. “Not impossible my dear! Impossibility is only limited to your imagination! And with a time machine like this, nothing is impossible.” Sansa gasped as she threw an awed look to Petyr. “Time machine?” Petyr could only shrug and nod in delight.

“So! Petyr! Where are we off to then? Where do you want to bring the pretty lady?”

Petyr looked at Sansa, and as expected, she was walking around the TARDIS, still taking in the sights. _I reacted the same way, Sansa._

Walking over to the Doctor, Petyr whispered a time and place in his ear. “Is this you trying to woo her?” Petyr hushed him. “Not so loud! So what if that is what I am trying to do?” The Doctor looked at the wandering beauty, and back at Petyr. “She’s a little too young to be on your lovedar, isn’t she? Besides, between you and me, I think you’re out of her league.” Petyr furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s not that young. Besides, it is not uncommon in our time.” The Doctor scrunched his eyebrows before sighing. “Yes, yes. I forgot. You people in this time are just hooking up with anyone of any age.”

Petyr scoffed. “It is not like that. I do genuinely care for her.” The Doctor sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I don’t think she will ever give you a shot at a relationship.” Irritation flared through him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Doctor.” He bit out through clenched teeth. The Doctor grinned playfully, before turning back to the control panel.

He sighed. “How did I ever have the misfortune of meeting you, Petyr? The things you’ve told me you did….” He trailed off, clicking his tongue. “I know, I know. It is not exactly honourable. But when have I ever did something disappointing in your presence?” The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“It doesn’t matter if what you did was with me or not. The fact that you did them in the first place is bad enough!” Sansa looked over at the two men. “Everything okay over there?” Petyr gave her a smile. “Fine.” Petyr sighed. “Look. We had this conversation before. Let’s not do this again. Not in front of Sansa.” The Doctor rolled his eyes, but jerked his head. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Moving over to the wanderess, Petyr clapped his hands together. “So! The Doctor is going to take us somewhere I think you have been secretly desiring to see.” At her confusion, he grinned. Sansa was about to ask when the TARDIS started groaning and whirring. Lights flickered around them. Petyr smirked at Sansa’s wary look. “Hold on tight, Sansa.”

The Doctor’s voice carried through the buzzing TARDIS. “I doubt they even existed, Petyr, but nonetheless, the grand tale of Florian and Jonquil. Here we come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know the tale of Florian and Jonquil has only been mentioned in the books (Correct me if I'm wrong). But I thought that if Sansa would have a time machine, she'd try to visit them. Since it is her favourite story after all. I'm not sure if they are fiction or not, but hey, the Doctor and Clara visited Robin Hood and he turned out to be real. ;) 
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!


	4. Florian and Jonquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine a universe where the Doctor meets Petyr Baelish and Sansa Stark, and together, they explore numerous universes together. Just the Doctor, Petyr and Sansa in the TARDIS. What could possibly happen?
> 
> (Follows mostly the show, not the book.)

Sansa felt her heart skip a beat when she heard their names.  _ Florian and Jonquil.  _ She failed to stifle the excited smile from creeping onto her lips, as she looked up at the spinning mechanism above her. She closed her eyes, drowning in its wheezing groaning sounds, as the TARDIS started to materialise out of the room. It was her first genuine, carefree smile in a long while and she didn’t care if Petyr, or even the Doctor saw. She needed that smile.  _ Oh,  _ how she missed the feeling of her muscles being tugged upwards at the corners of her mouth. 

She could hear the machine around her making strange noises, seeing flashing lights behind her closed eyelids. A mere minute later, she gasped and lost her balance as the whole place around her thudded, before becoming silent.  _ What just happened?  _ She looked to Petyr on her right, hoping he would explain. But a smug grin plastered on his face was her only answer. A squeeze on her arm dragged her attention from his mirthful eyes to his hand on her arm, which was helping to regain her footing. She didn’t even notice him holding her. Petyr looked around at the Doctor, before announcing that they had arrived, undisguised exhilaration in his voice. Sansa never thought she would see excitement flit across his features for reasons other than scheming and watching his plans unfold. 

“Here where?” She mumbled, dumbly.

The Doctor turned around to face Sansa, an amused impatient look marring his features. “In the Riverlands, of course. Specifically, in the town of Maidenpool. Oh do keep up, Lady Baelish.” 

Sansa was stunned, before huffing out, “I am not his-”

“A few thousand years before your present time,” the Doctor ignored her and continued, “I expect this is where we will find Florian and Jonquil.” 

In her peripheral vision, she could see Petyr standing beside her, grinning broadly like a smug idiot. “Hang on, what do you mean, ‘a few thousand years before our time’? Do you mean to say we have actually travelled back in time?” 

The Doctor turned to Petyr, cocking his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. She heard Petyr chuckle, before turning and grasping her shoulders gently. “Right, this...box that you entered is actually a time machine called the TARDIS. I’ve asked for him to take us to meet Florian and Jonquil, which is like he said, quite a few years before our time. And here we are, in Maidenpool.” He paused, allowing Sansa to soak the information in.

He could see the cogs wheeling in her brain, processing. “This...is impossible. Tell me I’m dreaming.” Petyr shook his head, barely concealing his smile.

Sansa stood agape. “Wha-? Then how am I still standing? I’m not even suppose to be born yet! Neither are you! This is outrageous Petyr! Surely you are just pulling my leg. “ She saw him laugh out loud,  _ laughed!  _ She must be losing it if Petyr Baelish is thoroughly amused to the point where he was laughing his head off. She waited impatiently as he descended from his high, wiping at the corner of his eye with a finger. He was still trying to contain the smile that was threatening to burst out. “Quite the contrary, Sansa. This is serious. I am not sure how to explain it to you, all I can say is,” he shrugged his shoulders, “it’s ‘timey-wimey’ stuff.” 

_ Timey-wimey? What in God’s name is that?  _ “Time-meddling things. Fairly complicated concept. But we need not dwell on it, only the Doctor needs to worry about that.” Petyr explained.

“How long have you been doing this?” She couldn’t help but blurt out. Petyr smiled cheekily, stepping away from her. “Do what?” Sansa almost wanted to roll her eyes. She didn’t respond, gesturing around the fascinating machine. 

She watched as the excitement from his face fade completely, replaced by longingness.  _ Well that was a fairly quick change of emotion. He’s never this readable.  _  “Not long enough.” Sansa saw that look on his face only a few times before, when he looked at her. He almost looked as if he loved doing whatever it was with the Doctor; and it was not just a game to him, not another chess piece on his board. But Sansa couldn’t be sure. She was no longer sure about Petyr since the day he abandoned her with the Boltons. 

She wanted to respond, but the Doctor beat her to it. “Enough chit-chattering love birds, we have legendary people awaiting! I expected you guys to be bursting out the door by now. Besides, I still need Petyr’s help after this. So if you don’t mind, let’s make this quick as possible.” He was standing impatiently at the door of the TARDIS, fidgeting to leave. Sansa made to protest that she wasn’t in fact, involved with Petyr, but figured the Doctor wouldn’t listen anyway. 

Petyr offered his hand to her, beckoning her outside. “Come outside and see for yourself, Sansa. It’s easier to believe if I show you.” 

Sansa didn’t need to be told twice. If the strange man who called himself the Doctor was genuine, and they had really landed in the time of Florian and Jonquil, hell, nobody could stop her from seeing them. Taking a deep breath, she accepted his outstretched arm, and surprised him by making a beeline for the exit, brushing past the Doctor on the way out. 

It was like stepping out into an alternate universe. Everything was so bright, with lush green trees surrounding her. She could hear wild animals nearby, birds chirping. It really felt like she was in a fairy tale, at that moment. They had apparently landed in a small vibrant village, and by the looks of it, it was situated on the outskirts of the mainland. Rows of shops lined the narrow street, selling and offering various services. The people on the street were smiling,  _ content and happy.  _ That was something Sansa hadn’t seen in a long time. Stomping down her envy, she focused on the bright, perfect picture in front of her. Inhaling the clear, fresh air, she closed her eyes, and let her mind drift, imagining she was in one of her own fairy tales she always dreamed of. Her in a flowery gown, she would be picking vibrant flowers from a nearby bush, smiling softly as she planned to put them in the hair of her prince in shining armour. Her pet direwolf, Lady, would be chasing butterflies around her, barking happily. For a moment, she didn’t want to open her eyes, for fear of losing that perfect picture in mind. But alas, the soothing voice of Petyr Baelish woke her from her daydream. 

“My lady, are you alright?” 

Sansa opened her eyes to stare into his concerned gaze. She smiled gently and nodded her head. “Sorry, my mind was just far away. Not to worry.” He grinned in response, before pointing in front of them, where the Doctor was already twenty paces ahead of them. “An adventurous journey awaits, Lady Sansa.” Petyr smirked and offered his arm. Taking a deep breath, she looped her arm through his and quickly fell into his pace. 

“Pull up your hood, you might be recognised by the shade of your hair.” She heard his whisper in her ear a while later. “How would anyone know? I wasn’t born anywhere near this time.” Petyr only shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, but they may easily mistake you for a Tully, with your beautiful flaming auburn hair. We are in the Riverlands after all. And the last thing we need is an interrogation as to who you really are. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“Oh,” Sansa murmured in understanding, before pulling up her hood. A sense of  _ deja vu  _ washed over her, recalling the last time she had to hide her hair from curious eyes in the Eyrie.  __

It was silent for half a beat, before Sansa broke it with curiosity. “How did you think to come here?” Petyr smirked. “While we were travelling together, I heard you humming to  _ Six Maids in a Pool _ , the-” “the song of Florian and Jonquil,” Sansa finished, exhaling. Petyr nodded, before breaking her gaze, turning to look at the people around him. “I figured then that you fancied the tale of Florian the Fool.” 

“I do. But I thought it is all just a legend?” Petyr shrugged at that, not knowing either. “The Doctor entered the coordinates of the estimated time period in which Florian and Jonquil occurred, and the TARDIS brought us here. We may or may not encounter them. Although, you cannot deny what a beautiful place this.” Sansa couldn’t agree more with his last statement. Her thoughts turned to the strange man in front of them, who was currently at a store, frowning as he inspected a sharp sword.

Sansa wanted to ask more about Petyr’s past with the Doctor, but when she glanced at him, he seemed so deep in thought that she did not have it in her heart to disturb his musings.  But, as alert as Petyr was, he noticed. “You have more questions?” He smiled knowingly. 

She nodded timidly. “How did you come about travelling with this man, the Doctor?” She gestured to the tall slim figure in front of them who was completely oblivious to the pair behind him. To her mild surprise, he chuckled, bringing out the crinkles at the side of his eyes. “It was a funny meet, actually. I was on my way back from -” Petyr stopped himself before he could finish that sentence. “From where?” Sansa pressed. 

Shaking his head, Petyr replaced his smile. “From a tavern in the East, when I bumped into him. I thought I had lost my mind. He was flailing his arms about as he spoke, wearing those bizarre looking clothes.” Sansa laughed at that. “He wanted help finding his TARDIS, so being the gentleman that I was, I paused all my planning for the man.” Sansa scoffed. “Not believing that, Baelish.” Next to her, she heard a resounding laughter. She wasn’t sure about a light-hearted Baelish, she didn’t think she would ever be able to get used to that. “You’re right. I threatened him, but living up to his eccentrism, he wasn’t affected at all by my threats. So I decided that helping him was my best option, in order for me to quickly return to my  _ normal  _ life. Not long after, we found that blue box of his, and he asked if I wanted to see planets with him. Naturally, I thought him to be a lunatic.” Sansa giggled at that. “But after some persuasion, I agreed. And so far, I have not regretted my decision.” Sansa looked at him, to find that he was staring at the back of the Doctor fondly. 

“Never thought you would care for another person, Petyr.” She teased. Petyr chuckled, “I don’t care for him like I do for you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He gave another hearty laugh at her snort. “But, I find him to be vastly different from the people we live with everyday. He is more insightful than any of us are, kind, and extremely clever. Although he is quite intolerable at times. But if it meant I could continue to travel with him, I wouldn’t mind tolerating his occasional insufferable behaviour. For some reason, I don’t find overlooking my back when I am around him.” Sansa nodded in understanding. Similar to him, she did feel that the Doctor was one person she could trust, despite only knowing him for less than a day. He just emitted that reassuring aura around him. Maybe it was his gentle face, if you could overlook those cross eyebrows. 

“Hey! Lovebirds! I think there’s something you should see!” The Doctor’s heavy Scottish accent brought them out of their private conversation. Sansa wanted to yell at the Doctor for calling them lovebirds. But knowing it would only draw attention to themselves, she resisted the urge, running over to him. 

The Doctor was pointing at a poster, that had a man’s portrait on it. It was messily scribbled, in red ink,  _ ‘Florian the Fool!’  _ across his face. “Could this be the same lad you were talking about, Petyr?” Petyr stepped closer to the portrait, squinting at the near illegible handwriting. “I think it may be. He was after all, famously called a fool.” Sansa stared at the well chiselled man, who had tired eyes. His hair was ruffled, making him look roguish, and yet, he looked like an honest man. “So he is real then? Not just a tale?” Sansa enquired, eyes full of hope. The Doctor nodded slowly, eyes scanning their surroundings. “Now to find this fool of a took.” 

After walking around aimlessly for almost an hour, Sansa heard something in the distance. A high-pitched, silken voice, singing a sweet tune from deep in the forest on her right. It was an alluring singing voice, begging her to follow it. The two men in front of her didn’t seem to notice the singing voice, engaged in a private conversation. Without alerting them, she followed the songbird.

 

____________________

 

Sansa followed the melodious voice through the forest away from the village, until she reached thick green bushes. The woman’s voice appeared to come from behind the lush green. As she neared the voice, the sound of water splashes could also be heard, although it was easily drowned out by the singing bird. If Sansa strained her ears, five other distinctive giggles accompanied the beautiful voice in the area. The sound of water lapping against the bank and the sight of a gown, white as snow, draped over the top of the tall bushes only confirmed her suspicions. There were girls bathing in the lake beyond the bushes. Sansa treaded lightly in the tall grass, inching toward the bush. The last thing she would want is to alert them to her presence, thinking her to be a creep spying on them. But she had to know whose face the sweet voice belonged to; she was entranced.

Peering through the leaves, she was not surprised to see six maids in the lake, splashing and waddling around with demure smiles on their smooth faces. The water level covered till the underside of their supple breasts. Even now, having seen many horrors in life, Sansa still blushed at the innocent sight of naked bodies. She could feel her cheeks aflame, and rose a cold hand towards one, expecting the cool touch to lessen her flush. Her gaze trailed to the singing maid, perched on a rock in the lake. She was sitting sideways to Sansa, enabling her to a side profile. She had long hazel curls that were pleated into a braid, sitting atop her crown, exposing her pale neck. She had an angular nose, high cheek bones with full pink lips that were currently tilted up, showing pearl white teeth and slight dimples to compliment her features. Her breasts were well endowed, bigger than her own even. Two thoughts came to mind - that she was the woman she had come to meet, and that she was a beautiful lady. All those stories that she had read rang true, she was as beautiful as they had described. She was a living goddess. 

Without thinking, she stepped through the thick bushes and into the clearing, approaching the bathing maids. It didn’t take long for them to notice her. One of the maids, with flowing auburn locks smiled brightly. “Hello! Care for a midday bath? The water is quite warm and I daresay the company is even warmer.” Sansa immediately took a liking to her, comforted by her friendly and witty approach. She offered a timid smile in response, “I heard someone singing while I was taking a stroll through the forest, and I couldn’t resist not following. Apologies, for the intrusion.” 

The same maid, waved her arms out from underwater, splashing water in the air. “It’s no bother! It was Jonquil here who was singing! She does have a gorgeous voice doesn’t she!” 

This time, the beautiful lady Sansa was entranced with, jumped off the rock and waddled closer to Sansa, stepping gracefully out of the water. Sansa willed her eyes not to stray from her face.  _ It’s rude to wander your eyes, Sansa. _ The maid smiled politely before giggling, “I’m Jonquil, sorry about distracting you from your afternoon walk.” 

Sansa giggled in response, waving a dismissive hand. “It was a pleasant distraction. I didn’t mind. You have a beautiful voice, Jonquil. I’m Sansa. Pleased to meet you.” Suddenly, the maids behind Jonquil started calling out to Sansa. “Hey! Join us! The more the merrier, isn’t that how it goes?” In front of her, Jonquil giggled. “Yes, why don’t you join us, Sansa? After all, all that walking must get your feet tired, no?” 

_ Bathing with Jonquil and her noble friends in that warm inviting lake? Hell yes!  _ Sansa looked between the maids in the lake and Jonquil for half a heartbeat before nodding enthusiastically. “Of course, who wouldn’t turn down good company and a nice warm bath?” Jonquil’s eyes crinkled with her smile, before she waddled back into the water, joining her friends and waiting for her. Without needing to be told twice, Sansa stripped her thick gown and her underclothes gracefully quick, before jumping into the waiting waters. She couldn’t ignore the blissful feeling of the warm water enveloping her pale body, warming her up from the cold air.  _ When was the last time I actually bathed in a lake?  _ Sansa couldn’t remember. Taking a deep breath, she dipped her head into the lake, before coming up, swinging her now dark red hair into the air backwards, splashing water everywhere.  _ That felt good. _

A few enthusiastic claps from the girls surprised her. “Beautifully done Sansa! Almost like a swan!” Sansa laughed, but bowed her head in thanks. Feeling refreshed, she swam to the girls in a few strokes. Introductions were made and not before too long, everyone was playfully splashing water at each other in the lake, with giggles filling the still air around them. 

After a while, their playfulness splashing about in the water died down and the seven girls were instead, deeply engaged in a conversation. “You are really beautiful, Sansa. Are you married?” Sansa shook her head, a light flush on her cheeks, which the maids delightfully mistook as embarrassment. They had no idea it was because Sansa was afraid she would reveal what she had done to her last husband, that she had killed him with his pack of dogs. “Oh! Why are you blushing furiously then? Not married, so, a lover perhaps?” They teased. Sansa smiled politely, her face still evidently flushed. One of the maids clapped her hands before giggling. “A lover! How romantic.” Sansa didn’t have the heart to deny her claim, she didn’t want their happiness and excitement to fade away. It was somehow making her happy and excited too, a rare feeling she had back  _ home. _

Sansa willed her mind to stop thinking about her  _ other life _ . She was for now in a better place and time, she would not spoil her happy mood. So, she resorted to answering their questions with as little information as possible. 

Fortunately, the conversation steered to the topic of Jonquil’s love life, courtesy of Sansa. “So, Jonquil, how about you? Are you married?” Sansa asked, wiggling her eyebrows. She hoped a certain knight’s name would come up, as she was eager to hear the true story of her two favourite heroes. 

Jonquil shook her head and winked at her. “No, still waiting for my prince charming. I hope he comes on a strong stallion with blonde locks and piercing blue eyes with long eyelashes, along with a jaw that could cut through steel, and dimples on his cheeks and a gorgeous smile that would be the envy of many men. ” Sansa’s eyes widened.  _ So, no Florian then. Yet.  _ She thought hopefully. “I see, sounds like quite a man.” Jonquil sighed, dreamily. “He is!” Sansa couldn’t help but think back to the man in the poster who was supposed to be her soon-to-be lover. He definitely didn’t fit the description of Jonquil’s perfect man. Sansa couldn’t picture Florian possibly being the first man to spread Jonquil’s thighs. In the back of her mind, she idly wondered if Jonquil and Florian did get together after all, or if it was all a story in a good jest between playful friends which somehow carried on for generations. 

Her thoughts were cut short when a rustling in the bushes alerted the girls, coming from the same direction where Sansa was when she saw them bathing. Immediately, the girls around her stopped and consciously covered their upper bodies, shielding them from unwanted eyes. 

“What was that?”

“Is someone there?”

“Come out, whoever is behind there!” 

The girls’ commands fell on deaf ears as the rustling continued. Sansa was acutely aware of the worried looks on their faces. She had half a mind to be the brave one to slap whoever was spying on them, especially if it was an old creep. But she didn’t have a chance to, as a cloaked figure with dark hair tumbled out of the bushes, followed by a string of curses, before falling flat onto the grass. The figure let out a groan before barking,

“Seven Hells, Florian! I told you not to lean on me!” 

Sansa’s jaw dropped in shock as her body went rigid at that voice. She knew that husky voice anywhere. She would recognise his voice from a mile away, for it was always stuck in her head, promising her she’d be queen of the North one day. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh darn, a lovely bath time gets interrupted :( 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely feedback :) I appreciate it loads.


	5. Peeping Tom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for a later update, been way too busy with school, now that a new semester has started. That said, updates from now on would be a bit later than usual - one chapter a week hopefully. Enjoy this next chapter! :)

_ An hour earlier… _

____________________

 

“Hey, Doctor? Have you seen Sansa? I think she’s missing.” Petyr was frantically running around corners of the village, hoping a glimpse of red Tully hair and pale ivory skin caught his eye. Of course, there were more than a few redheads, which rendered his search futile. 

Turning to the Doctor behind him, he frowned as he watched him bite into an apple. “Where did you get that from?” The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and pointed to the apple, scanning it. “I bought it.” Petyr raised an eyebrow. “With what? You don’t have any money.” 

The Doctor paused mid-bite, looking around. “Well, okay. There was this old lady who gave me one. Such a kind soul.” Petyr’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Old lady? Why Doctor, aren’t you afraid it may be poisoned? You remember what happened to poor dear Snow White, don’t you?” The Doctor looked at him, before breaking into a wide smile. “How can I forget? You were there. Stupid girl she was, taking an apple from a shady old witch. Serves her right for falling into a coma. And I ended up being the Prince who kissed the Princess, yuck. All in the name of saving her life.” Petyr laughed at the fond memory. “Yeah, thanks to you, the Prince who should’ve kissed her ended up eloping with one of her seven dwarfs.” He shivered at the memory. How odd it was to find that the Prince who everyone thought was noble and pure secretly had a kink for dwarfs. The Doctor burst out laughing. “Don’t remind me. I hope they’re both happy, wherever they are.” 

“How did you manage to lose her anyway?” The Doctor asked, in between loud crunches. It took a moment for Petyr to realise he was referring to Sansa. “I’d imagine no man could lose a woman that beautiful. Another reason why you’re not good enough for her.” Petyr growled. Ever since Sansa tagged along with them, the Doctor had teased him non-stop about his relationship with her. He was willing to bet Sansa was on the brink of losing her patience with him.  _ Probably the reason why she ran off,  _ he scoffed. 

“Or maybe,” the Doctor swallowed and furrowed his eyebrows, as if in deep thought, “she ran away because she came to a startling realisation that she’s travelling with two old, strange men. One’s old enough to be a messiah, while the other is old enough to be her father and yet, still wants to court her for some reason.” The Doctor laughed, amused at himself. Petyr huffed, holding onto that fine, thin thread of patience he had left. He knew the Doctor was merely teasing, ruffling his feathers. It was in his nature to tease him. But the topic of Sansa was a sensitive one for him. He didn’t know why. “I am courting her,” he growled warningly, “because I care for her deeply.” 

The Doctor flinched at the fuming look on his face, and threw his hands up, surrendering. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry if I struck a chord there, Baelish. I don’t doubt your feelings for the young lady. As long as she has a choice in the matter.” Petyr was quick to nod. “She does. I will never force her.” He winced, an unbidden memory about what Ramsay did to Sansa coming to mind.  _ Never again will I let that happen to her. _

Petyr looked around them. They were in the heart of the small village and they still hadn’t found Sansa. It didn’t help that there was a small crowd where they were. He tugged on the sleeve of the Doctor’s jacket. “I think we should go look for Sansa. I don’t want her hurt.” He didn’t need to turn to see the Doctor nodding in agreement. But before they could move, Petyr was shoved aside by a tall, hard body, knocking him off-balance. “What the-?” The man turned around, eyes crinkled. “Apologies milord! I didn’t see you there. Forgive me, I wasn’t watching where I was walking.” The man moved to brush dust off Petyr’s cloaked shoulders. “It’s fine. Just be careful next time boy.” When he straightened, Petyr caught a good look at him and his eyes almost bulged out. He matched the picture on the poster they saw moments ago. His hazel messy hair that was almost covering his eyes, and that sharp jaw. But most of all, his droopy, green eyes helped confirm who he had just bumped into.  “Are you Ser Florian?” He asked, before he could stop himself. 

The man raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming Petyr’s figure, before nodding. He stuck his hand out. “Aye, I’m Florian. Who’s asking?” Petyr gripped his outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. “Petyr Baelish. I have heard stories about you.” Florian’s eyebrows rose, with a hint of a smile on his face. “Oh? You have? All good, naughty things, I hope.” He winked and Petyr fought to cringe. 

“Naughty things? What kind of naughty things?” Petyr forgot about the Doctor next to him, and gestured between Florian and the Doctor. “Doctor, Florian. Florian, this is the Doctor, my...companion.” Florian swept a confused look over the Doctor, it wouldn’t take a genius to know he was baffled by the Doctor’s clothes. “He’s not from around here.” Petyr explained. Florian raised an eyebrow, but nodded, shaking the Doctor’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Doctor.” 

The Doctor smiled. “You haven’t answered my question. What naughty things? Did you do something bad? Are you a bad man?” To the Doctor’s surprise, Jonquil laughed. He winked at the Doctor and Petyr, before purring, “Yes I have, Doctor. I’ve done all sort of bad things...to kitties.” Petyr winced, understanding his reference clearly. But the Doctor was not so susceptible to understanding these things. He let out an incredulous gasp, “why would you do that?” Florian looked at the Doctor strangely, “why Doctor, think about it, wouldn’t you do the same if you had the opportunity?” The Doctor’s angry eyebrows knitted together. “Yes, I’m thinking. But I don’t see how any humane person would want to hurt a cat.” Florian stared at the Doctor for a minute, before bursting out in laughter. “I was not referring to an actual cat, Doctor!” The Doctor shook his head in confusion. “What other cats are there, then?” Florian was about to answer when Petyr decided it was time to intervene. For some reason, he didn’t want to see the Doctor corrupted by Florian’s bedroom adventures. 

“Okay,” he rested a hand on the Doctor’s shoulders, “I think, that’s enough small talk for now. Doctor, remember Sansa? She’s still missing.” The Doctor turned to him, snapping out of his inner confusion. “Yes, of course.” Turning back to Florian, Petyr asked if he had seen a hooded lady with bright blue eyes and pale skin. Florian bit his bottom lip, silent for a while, before lighting up. “As a matter of fact, I have. I saw her enter the forest over there,” he pointed over to the same lush of trees Sansa entered. “Pretty face. Too bad it was mostly covered with the hood, I would love to get to know her.” Petyr had to hold himself back from barking at the fool that he was not to touch his Sansa. But he couldn’t. Sansa wasn’t even his to begin with. Sighing, he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Well, come on, Doctor.” 

The Doctor and Petyr turned to leave, bidding Florian a good day, when Florian interrupted with a stupid smile on his tanned skin, “hey, I’m coming along. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to meet a beautiful maid.” He gave them a wink and Petyr fought the urge to rip his eyes from their sockets. Instead, he bit out, “I believe we can manage, Ser. Perhaps we can meet later for a drink in a tavern?”

However, his offer for a cold one was not tempting enough to persuade Florian to leave them. “Not a chance. I’m bettin’ you two would get lost in there anyway,” he pointed to the forest in front of them. Petyr hated to admit that he had a valid point. “Besides,” he cast a suspicious look between the two older men, “how would I know you wouldn’t kidnap the pretty maid or something?” Petyr wanted to roll his eyes. “She’s our friend. We lost her while we were wondering around the village.” The Doctor nodded vigorously in agreement. “We wouldn’t hurt her at all.” 

Florian maintained his suspicions but nodded. “Fine by me, I’ll come with still. If that is okay. Just to make sure. And of course, to meet this lovely lady of yours.” Florian winked. Petyr growled under his breath while the Doctor just stared at him in confusion. “Lead the way.” Petyr grumbled. Florian happily complied, taking off in the direction of the forest without sparing a glance back. 

Petyr could sense the Doctor stepping closer to him. “Seems like you have competition.” He commented. Petyr knew he was right, and it didn’t sit well with him. Not only because he had a feeling Sansa would most likely retaliate his advances, but because he was not the knight she had believed him to be. He wasn’t the gallant, noble and humble knight in the stories. He didn’t bother to conceal the worry he felt for her. “It seems so.” The Doctor waved a hand. “I don’t think Sansa would choose him over…” The Doctor gestured vaguely to him. Petyr attempted at a smile. “Let’s hope so.” 

 

____________________

 

“So, where are you two from? I know almost everyone here. I’ve never seen you two before.” Florian casually asked, stepping over branches. 

They were deep in the forest, closely following Florian, for fear of getting lost. Petyr had to admit, without his help, the Doctor and him would surely be lost now. There was no path and the trees surrounding them looked identical.  Any foreigner would get lost and die of starvation out here. 

Petyr glanced at the Doctor walking behind them, before replying, “well, we travel around. Never in the same place for two nights.” Florian hummed in amazement. Petyr cast a sideways glance at Florian, wondering if he already met Jonquil. He wanted to ask, but asking might potentially change the original course of events, and they didn’t come here for that. 

“So, dare I ask how you got the name Florian the Fool?” Petyr asked tentatively. Florian chuckled, shaking his head. “You heard that, huh? Well, you can tell I’m not of noble birth. Once, I asked a fair noble maiden for her favour in hopes that she may overlook my disadvantage, and accept me for who I truly am and what I can offer - my love, a roof over our heads; a comfortable life.” His voice was gentle, reminiscing. “But alas, she didn’t accept my proposal for I was too low born for her. I don’t fault her. I could never, I love her too much. Ever since then, her friends have been calling me a fool, for still holding onto that tiny hope that one day, she may accept me.” An involuntary chill ran up Petyr’s spine.  _ This story sounds too familiar. _ The infamous story of Catelyn Stark and Petyr Baelish. He mused distastefully. To be frank, he hate for any more reminders of it. The scar from navel to collarbone was a good enough reminder.

Determined not to dwell on his own past, he cleared his throat. “What’s her name?” 

Florian gave him a wide grin. “Jonquil. I don’t know her last name. I’ve only met her once.” 

Petyr frowned. “You only met her once and you proposed to her?” An enthusiastic ‘yes’ was his response. “You really are a fool.” He mumbled. “Don’t you think courting a noble lady first would be more appropriate?” Petyr asked curiously. Florian looked at him in contemplation, before sagging his shoulders. “But what is the point in courting her if she will never look past my low birth?” Petyr bit his inner cheek. He really didn’t like to deal with sad people, especially men. He just didn’t know how to console them. Back home, he would just shoot the damn man and move on. Back home, he had no time for unnecessary drama and excessive emotions. But this was not home, this was an adventure. And he damn well better cherish this. “Well, if you never try, how would you know?” Petyr attempted. Unexpectedly, Florian straightened almost immediately, with a wide smile on his face. “I guess you are right, Baelish. It is worth a try.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, how should I court her?” Petyr fought the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. 

“Hey! Two of you shut up! Do you hear that?” The Doctor exclaimed, shushing them. Both men stopped, ears perked. “What?” Florian whispered. The Doctor placed a finger to his lips. “Shush!” 

A heartbeat later, in the distance, fits of giggles could be heard. “Is that -” Petyr asked, “ladies giggling!” Florian finished, all of a sudden excited. Florian jumped. “We must be close!” As if in response, the giggles became louder, turning into feminine laughter. “Oh! I think I know where they are!” Not waiting for a response, Florian turned and jogged in the direction of the giggling and laughter. “Wow, he’s worse than you for lady action, isn’t he?” The Doctor idly commented, picking fallen leaves off his shoulder. “Hmm.” 

They caught up with Florian at a tall shrub. The sound of a lake nearby could be heard now, accompanied with the familiar laughter. “Are they-” “bathing! Naked, in a lake!” Florian answered Petyr’s question. “Can you believe my luck? Thank you, Lady Luck!” He giggled. Petyr rolled his eyes. “Wait, how do you know they’re naked?” Petyr asked. Florian grabbed a bunch of leaves in the bush and pulled them, creating a peep hole in the bush that led out into the bank, overseeing the lake. “See for yourself.” He giggled, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Is Sansa there? Our friend?” He asked instead, not entirely keen on spying on maidens bathing. It was rude and perverted. But Florian shrugged, giving him an encouraging look. “I don’t know how your friend looks like. They’re seven of them in there.” Petyr hesitated. He  _ really _ didn’t want to get caught spying. If it were his girls from his establishments, then spying on them was fine, as it was for a good cause, well to him anyway. But these were innocent girls, not his well trained whores. But Florian called him once more, asking him to peek. Looking back to to the Doctor for guidance. “What are you looking at me for? You brought her along, she’s your responsibility!” Petyr huffed. He was right. Sansa was his responsibility. The thought of naked Sansa bathing in the lake made his loins twitch, desire pooling in his groin. 

Sighing, he moved closer to the gap in the bush, careful not to fall over. If Sansa was not here, he would get out as quickly as possible, he told himself. 

  
Leaning toward the sunlight the gap enabled, he was not surprised to see the ladies splashing in the lake, naked, with the water up to their breasts. Not forgetting his reason for peeking, his eyes trailed easily from lady to lady, expecting his beautiful redhead to be among them. 

Petyr almost choked on his saliva at the sight before him. Well, he did find Sansa, safe and sound. That was good. She was, in fact, in the lake with the other girls. Bathing. Naked. Petyr almost drooled. Very naked. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. She was Aphrodite gracing him with her presence. Petyr felt rooted to the ground beneath him. She was engaged in what appears to be a lighthearted conversation with the other ladies, whom he didn’t pay any attention to, his eyes only on Sansa. Her lower body was covered by the sparkling waters, but that did not disappoint him at all. She was facing his direction, her luscious supple breasts were just above the water level, allowing him a delicious view. Her beautiful twin peaks were puckered, likely from the cool air. He licked his lips. But his gaze didn’t stop there. Trailing up to her pale, smooth neck and up to her face, his heart jumped at the sight. She was smiling, and it took his breath away. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen her smile that much before. A tug at his heart made him frown and a disturbing thought came to mind, that he was incapable of making her happy back home. If only he could whisk her away from the horrid world they live in, she could smile freely when she wanted. Petyr shook his head. No point dwelling on impossible thoughts. She looked so carefree, her burdens gone from resting heavily on her shoulders. But he knew that she didn’t belong with them, and he was willing to bet Sansa knew it too. She had seen and did too much, for her to remain pure and naive like the other ladies surrounding her. 

He sighed, dropping his gaze back to the grass beneath his feet. A rustle behind him drew his attention to an approaching Florian, a wide mischievous smile plastered on his face. “What-” Petyr didn’t get to finish asking, before Florian leant on him, pushing him even closer to the gap in the bush. He grunted, moving to shove him off. “Hush! I need to see them. How can anyone resist the tempting sight of not one, not two, but  _ seven _ naked ladies?” For a man who was smaller than Florian, Petyr struggled to hold his weight, well aware of him dangerously tilting forwards. “Flor-Florian, don’t lean on me. You weigh like a pig, damn it.” He snapped. But Florian ignored him, his eyes glued to the sight of the naked girls. “O-oh my, is that- is that Jonquil?!” Florian exclaimed, clapping Petyr on the shoulders in front of him a little too hard. Unfortunately, Petyr didn’t have time to react, as he was suddenly falling forwards. Through the bushes. The last thought Petyr could remember, was that he was going to kill Florian for this.

____________________

 

“Petyr?!” Sansa cried, eyes widened with shock beyond compare. “What in God’s name are you doing here?!” Before he could pick his face up from the dirt, Sansa rushed to her clothes near the bank and quickly draped them across her lady parts.

She heard another groan from him as he picked himself off the ground. Straightening himself, Sansa’s eyes narrowed, impatient for an explanation. When Petyr caught her state - haphazardly covering herself, he averted his eyes, apologising. “I’m sorry, my lady. You were missing, and I was concerned, so…” Sansa sighed. She looked back to the lake, to find that Jonquil and the others sunk deeper in the water, till their heads were the only body parts above the water. She could see the curiosity in their eyes, observing the newcomer. “So you spied on me, is that it?” Immediately, Petyr’s head shot up, meeting brazen blue. “Forgive me, Sansa. But if it makes you feel better, I was coerced to spy on you.” He attempted. Sansa’s eyebrows rose. “By who?”

Petyr looked behind him, at the bush, as if expecting something, or someone. “Who, Lord Baelish?” She could see him flinch slightly at her stern tone. “Florian, my lady.” Sansa didn’t think her eyebrows could rise even higher, but it did. “F-Florian? As in, The Florian?” Petyr only nodded, eyes wary. She cleared her throat. “Would you excuse us, for a moment, Lord Baelish? I am pretty sure the appetite for a nice bath has disappointingly gone now.” Petyr dropped his head. “Once again, I apologise, my lady.” He turned curtly, disappearing back into the other side of the bushes. She could hear distinct scoldings on the other side. Sansa couldn’t help but feel a tad bit amused at the predicament.  _ So, Florian is here. And Jonquil.  _ She barely suppressed a squeal. 

Turning to her friends, she beckoned them out of the water. “They’re gone for now, girls. Shall we get dressed? I dare say the mood for bathing has dissipated, thanks to that man.” The girls nodded, rising out of the water to their clothes, hastily putting them on. 

“Who was he?” One of the girls asked. 

“Oh! I bet he is her lover! Did you see how concerned he was for her wellbeing?” Another answered in a teasing voice. 

“Why would you take on a much older lover? He looks old enough to be our fathers!” The first girl asked, curious. 

Sansa fought the urge to blush furiously. “No, he is just a friend.” 

One of them nudged her friend in the ribs lightly and whispered, “a friend who’s so concerned for Sansa. I bet he’s in love with her.” They giggled. 

Sansa heard that, and this time, she couldn’t control the blush from flaming over her pale cheeks. The girls noticed, and they exploded with more giggles. “You’re bushing! He is quite dashing for an older man, you can’t deny that. You have my blessing.” Sansa stared at them wide-eyed, a nervous laughter escaping her. “T-thank you? But we are just friends, nothing more.” From the looks on their faces, Sansa knew they didn’t believe it, but shrugged it off with smiles. 

The five girls noticed that it was well late into the afternoon and they had to get back home. They thanked Sansa for her company and asked her to come around for tea in the near future. She beamed and accepted their invitation. She promised that she would bop Petyr in the head on behalf of them for spying, and the girls erupted into fits of giggles, but thanked her, nonetheless. Soon, it was just Jonquil and Sansa on the bank of the lake. 

While they were wringing out their wet hair, she approached Sansa. “Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear the name Florian. Was it Florian the Fool you were talking about?” Sansa nodded, a beaming smile on her lips. “So...you know him?” Jonquil nodded, but didn't return her smile. Sansa’s grin fell. Jonquil cleared her throat. “Uhm...well, he proposed not long ago. And I turned him down.” Sansa stood, mouth agape. “What? Why?” Jonquil shrugged, frowning slightly. “He’s too low born. It would not be an agreeable match.” Internally, Sansa was panicking.  _ Turned him down? How can that be? They're supposed to be madly in love!  _ She knew Florian was a low born, it was one of the reasons why she loved their romance tale so much - two people from vastly different backgrounds falling in love with each other despite their differences. A high born lady and a low born lord overcoming societal obstacles just to be with each other, what could be more romantic than that?

Stepping closer to her, she asked, rather hopefully, “but, do you hold any warm feelings affection for Florian?” To her dismay, Jonquil giggled and shook her head. “I’ve only seen the man once, and he proposed without courting me first like a proper suitor would! Of course I don’t fancy the man.” 

Sansa wanted to whimper and sob. This was not how she envisioned her adventurous trip back in time would be. She pictured witnessing first-handedly how Florian would sweep Jonquil off her feet, showering her with gentle kisses before laying them down in a bed of daffodils,  _ This won’t do,  _ she told herself. Sighing, she peered through the bushes where the men waited at the foot of a nearby tree, a distance away from the lake. There was no way she would let the famous story of Florian and Jonquil go to waste like this. She had to do something, and she needed the help of Petyr Baelish and the Doctor for it. 


	6. Operation: Matchmake Florian and Jonquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of much needed conversation between Sansa and The Doctor about their mutual friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes in this chapter is mine, I own nothing but my mistakes. Enjoy this next one!

 

“Sansa! How was your waddling and splashing in the lake?” The Doctor questioned as she approached the men, a blushing Jonquil in tow. She sent a disapproving glance to Petyr, who was shuffling his feet, looking anywhere but her. “It was beautiful, Doctor. Until a certain peeping tom came by and ruined everything.” Petyr scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. The Doctor snickered, “ah, shame.” She nodded in agreement, a slight pout gracing her lips. From the corner of her eye, Petyr stepped forward. “Sansa, I only meant to check whether you were there. I didn’t plan to stay longer than I should. But this man over here,” he jerked a thumb at a beaming Florian, “leaned on me to peep on you girls, I told him to get off, but he didn’t listen.” Petyr sighed. “So I lost my footing and fell through.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow, looking to Florian. She stepped closer to the man, struggling to contain her excitement at finally meeting the person she travelled back in time to see. “So, you must be Ser Florian?” She asked, although she knew the answer. What surprised her, was that he bent down on one knee, taking her hand and placed a warm kiss on the back of it. Her eyes widened at the action, as bright green met striking blue. “Yes, my lady. It is a pleasure to meet you, lady Sansa, and please, call me Florian.” He purred, sending chills down her spine. In the corner of her eye, she swore Petyr bristled.

“Uhm...yes, it is a pleasure to meet you too, Florian.” She stammered, unsure of how to react. He was flirting with her, she knew it. She wasn’t a virgin to flirtatious advances from men, after all, Petyr flirted with her all the time when they were in the Eyrie. But Florian, her childhood hero flirting with her? She didn’t know what to think of it. Of course, she wouldn’t bat her eyelashes for him, for he was supposed to be with Jonquil, and Sansa would make sure they realise that. Coming to her senses, she swiftly pulled her hand out of his grasp, much to Petyr’s relief.

If Florian was offended, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes travelled to the other woman behind Sansa. Immediately, he stood up, with arms open wide and a wide grin on his face. “Jonquil! I knew it was you in the lake. My, don’t you look stunning!” He proclaimed, taking small steps to the woman. Jonquil curtsied, like a proper maiden she was, and thanked him for his compliment with a hesitant smile on her face. It was not long before the both of them were chatting with the other, although Jonquil was more reserved, letting Florian boast about his fencing spars against other knights.

Taking her cue to leave them alone, she walked to her two men. The Doctor crossed his arms, with an expectant gaze. “So? You’ve seen them. You’ve talked to them. Can we go now?” Sansa shook her head firmly and the Doctor let out a groan. “Why not?”

Looking at her companions, she told them about how the romance between Florian and Jonquil was not going according to history. “Let me guess, you want to change the course of events? Pair them up?” Petyr asked, a knowing look in his eyes. She nodded excitedly, an eager smile on her face. Petyr smiled, _ever the hopeful girl,_ he thought. “You can’t change the course of history that easily, you know. It has to be changed with great precision and great care.” The Doctor warned, a crease between his eyebrows. Immediately, Sansa’s shoulders dropped, all hope at witnessing the romantic union between Florian and Jonquil dashed. Seeing the change in her demeanour, Petyr huffed, “you change history all the time Doctor, remember how you made Britain's Virgin Queen...not a virgin?” _Virgin Queen?_ Sansa thought. She would’ve liked to be a virgin queen, she learned that men just make things unnecessarily complicated and difficult.

The Doctor grumbled. “Yeah well, that was a different me. I was young and reckless. I proposed to her by accident, and she unsurprisingly agreed. I was quite the dashing, irresistable time lord back then.”

“A pleasant accident, though?” Petyr questioned.

“Yeeeah...well. Quite.”

Petyr smirked. Sansa stared at the Doctor, imagining his youth days and how he looked like. She was beyond curious about the Doctor’s past. _After this whole ordeal is done, I’ll ask him._

Unbeknownst to her trained eyes on him, the Doctor clapped his hands together. “So! How do you want to do this eh? Slip them love potions? I think I still have one left from the planet of Burquez back in the TARDIS.” Sansa shook her head, determined to do this the old fashioned way. “No potions, that’s not nice of us to trick them into loving each other.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Would save us loads of time though. But alright, tell me your plan then, matchmaker Sansa.”

Sansa grinned at her nickname, gesturing the both of them to huddle closer so that she could tell them her plan.

 

____________________

 

Sansa and the Doctor were back in the TARDIS, hunching over a cooking chicken in the…

“Engine? Really? Doesn’t seem like the proper place to cook food.” Sansa thought worriedly.

The Doctor chuckled, “I’ve done this plenty of times. The engine is hot enough to act as an oven, although she doesn’t really like being used as a kitchen appliance.”

“She?” The Doctor nodded and pointed around him. “The TARDIS. She has feelings, you know.” Sansa nodded slowly, not quite believing him.

Petyr was accompanying their newfound friends outside the TARDIS, keeping them busy while the Doctor and her cooked. They decided that they would all go on a picnic together on a hillside in Maidenpool, hence the cooking chicken. When Sansa told of her plans to Jonquil, she had surprisingly agreed willingly, agreeing to the idea that a picnic with Florian sounded great. Perhaps their mission to get the two together was going to be easier than she thought. Petyr and the Doctor agreed that Florian and Jonquil together on a picnic mat, eating and chatting surrounded by butterflies and flowers would most likely spark some sort of affection for each other, hopefully. If it fails, well, there's always Plan B.

She checked for the two picnic mats in the two baskets and sighed. Florian and Jonquil would be having one mat, and the three of them on the other. She was not looking forward to it. Ever since she came onboard the TARDIS with the Doctor, he had been relentlessly teasing her about the romance between Petyr and her. She knew Petyr held some level of affection for her, ever since their first kiss in the Eyrie, the one under the Crypts of Winterfell, and the attempted one at the godswood. But his affection for her was always blurred, it changed drastically from parental love, to romantic love, and then sometimes she was just a pawn to him, to Littlefinger. It confused her to no end. But she couldn’t lie, she found him to be quite attractive in a way, his ever youthful smirk complemented his experienced grey temples, and he was always impeccably well dressed, with the pleasant smell of mint surrounding him.

She wondered if she would ever reconsider his proposal to her back in the godswood. It wasn’t really a match made in romance, to her at least, but more so a political advantage. If she married him, she would have the Vale army close to her and Jon, strengthening their military force against the enemy. Being married to Petyr would also be far less scary compared to her marriage with Ramsay, for sure. She knew Petyr would never harm her, especially in the physical sense. She had seen his reaction in Mole’s Town when she told him about what Ramsay did to her body; he was palpably affected.

“It’s done!”

She was brought out of her thoughts by the Doctor’s voice. He opened the hatch of the engine and the strong aroma of marinated chicken filled her nostrils. She licked her lips.

“Smells good, doesn’t it? This is going to be a gas.” The Doctor said as he carried the chicken out of the engine, setting it down on a table to cool down.

She followed the Doctor to the control panel, wondering if she should ask him what she was going to.

“Doctor? What do you think of Petyr?”

The Doctor turned around, a confused look on his face. Sansa elaborated, “I mean, having travelled with him, what do you think of him? Is he a good man?”

To her surprise, he laughed. “Well, it’s all relative I suppose. He has told me of some of the despicable things he’d done back in your time. I don’t understand why he did half of the things, but I guess he is a machiavellian sort of person.”

Sansa nodded in agreement. He was the type of person to achieve his goals through any means necessary. ‘The end justifies the means’, he used to tell her.

“But you’ve got to respect his persistency at attaining his goals or his passions.” Again, she nodded, albeit hesitantly.

The Doctor looked at her and pursed his lips. “I don’t know if you’re put off by it, but he does seem to care a lot about you.”

She looked up to meet his gentle gaze. “I’m confused about his desire for me.” She confessed. “Sometimes it’s all about the stupid game, that I’m just an important piece to his perfect picture. But other times, I see a genuine warmth in his eyes when he looks at me, and I get startled by how intense it is.” She looked down and fiddled with her thumbs, anxious about what he would say. It was the first time she had ever confessed her inner turmoil about Petyr to someone, and oddly, she was grateful it was the Doctor.

“I understand. Your timeline sure is a tricky, complex mess of sex, violence, and politics. It’s a shame Petyr is the way he is, a reserved man. He doesn’t show a lot of emotion, and if he does, it’s rarely and barely noticeable.” He sighed and Sansa nodded.

“But having been roaming this universe for over two thousand years,” he said, “I think, it’s safe to say Petyr ultimately does care about your welfare. I know he would lose his mind if you were to abandon him.” She winced, feeling guilty for having thought about abandoning him more than once.

“He is not a noble man,” he continued, “but he is trying his best to love you in the only way he knows how - by giving you political power.”

She sighed. “He proposed to me, not long ago.” She said.

The Doctor nodded, “I know. He told me about it when we were travelling, that he planned to marry you. Are you going to say yes?”

Sansa huffed out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know. It has its advantages.” The Doctor shook his head, knowing she was thinking about the political side of things. “Forget about politics. Don’t you want to marry for love?” He asked.

She gave him a wry smile. “I gave up on love a long time ago.”

“Ouch,” the Doctor winced, “you are what the teens say nowadays, pardon my french, ‘fucked up’.” Sansa laughed, “thanks for that Doctor.” The Doctor smiled, before returning to the now cooled chicken, cutting it up and placing them neatly in the baskets.

“I say just enjoy the picnic for now, and see how it goes. Petyr may still surprise you. You just might enjoy his company.” He said.

“Okay, Doctor.” She smiled.

____________________

 

“There you are! What took you guys so long?” Florian and Jonquil chorused, staring at the approaching pair.

Petyr turned around to see the Doctor and Sansa walking briskly towards them, two full picnic baskets in hand. Sansa had also changed into a thin emerald dress, to accommodate the now warmer weather. Her hair was neatly braided atop her head, exposing her delicious pale neck. She must’ve freshened up in the TARDIS. She looked stunning. Petyr didn’t think he would ever get used to her grace and beauty. They locked eyes and she gave him a wide smile, one which Petyr gladly returned a genuine one of his own.

“Sorry! Chicken took longer than it should.” The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, eyes crinkled. Petyr was still staring at Sansa and he knew that cooking chicken wasn’t all they did in the TARDIS. She was smiling more at him now, when just an hour ago she was mad at him for being a peeping creep. _The Doctor said something to her,_ he mused.

Shaking his head, he coughed. “So, Florian and Jonquil were just telling me about this nice spot for a picnic behind the lake. Beautiful scenery and everything.”

Sansa beamed at him, then at the two. “Great! Let’s not waste time hanging about then, shall we?” She left the Doctor’s side and grabbed Petyr’s elbow, looping around his arm.

Petyr’s eyes widened at the sudden pleasant contact. “Uhm..okay... Florian? Jonquil? Lead the way please.” He stammered. _They definitely had a chat in the TARDIS._ He looked to the Doctor, to see a grin like a Cheshire cat on his pale face.  

Florian and Jonquil were also smirking at him and at their joined arms. “Alright! Seems like a double date! Doctor! You might need to find yourself a date, or you’re going to be a third wheel!” Florian exclaimed.

Sansa shook her head and reached out her free hand, attempting to pull the Doctor next to her. “Nonsense! He will be with us.” But the Doctor shook his head with a small smile. “It’s alright, you four have fun. I’ll need to attend to some repairs in my machine. Especially after all that cooking.” He winked, before turning around towards the TARDIS. “I’ll see you guys later!” He called over his shoulder.

Petyr quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor’s retreating form. “See you later Doctor! Thanks for the chicken!” Florian waved at the Doctor, and Jonquil chorused his farewell. The pair then took off in the direction of the picnic spot, Petyr and Sansa trailing behind.

“Did you chase him away?” He teased the woman on his arm. He laughed at the light slap on his chest. “Of course not. I guess he just wants us to spend more time together. I think.” She mumbled, trailing off nervously.

He chuckled. “That’s nice of him. I was hoping we would be alone during the picnic.” His voice deepened, and he could see a shiver from her. He inwardly smirked.

She shook her head and gestured to the pair in front of them. “We have a mission, remember? We can’t afford to slack off.” She said. Petyr only chuckled. “Slack off? I think we can afford a good chat and a lovely meal without taking our ever watchful eyes off Florian and Jonquil, don’t you think?” To his amusement, she huffed out, muttering an agreement.

The pair walked in silence for awhile, enjoying the scenery around them, before he asked her, “so are you enjoying yourself?” He pointed to Florian and Jonquil.

Sansa met his eyes and she smiled, making his heart clench in the most pleasurable way. “I am, thank you. I’ve never been this happy or carefree in a long time.” Petyr returned her warm smile, pleased that he had earned her gratitude. “My pleasure. I only want to make you happy.” He said.

She didn’t say anything after that, and the pair lapsed into a comfortable silence for the rest of their walk.

“Hey! You two! We’re here.” Florian was waving them over, pointing at the small hill before them. The lake that the girls had bathed in was just behind the hill, its glistening waters looking very inviting.

“Come, my lady. We need to climb the hill for the rest of the way.” Petyr offered her his hand to her, a smirk in place. Florian and Jonquil were already ahead of them, Florian assisting the delicate maiden up the hill.

She picked up her skirts, exposing the tiny bit of  skin to him, and took his outstretched hand in a gentle grasp. “Lead the way, Lord Baelish.”

It was a nice, breezy ascent up the hill. As they climbed, they could see the village afar clearly, still buzzing with people. And further down the little village, stood a huge castle. He could feel his heartbeat beat wildly, and he knew it wasn’t from the climb up. The sight was too familiar.

“Is that the castle of Riverrun?” The woman next to him asked, and he closed his eyes, from painful memories or the wind in his eyes, he did not know.

“It is, my love. I’m surprised it doesn’t look that different. I was expecting the walls to be cleaner, being a few thousand years younger.” His voice sounded strained as he said the words. He didn’t expect them to get a view of the castle, if he knew, he wouldn’t agree to this location.

Unfortunately, Sansa noticed the tension in his voice. “Something wrong?” She asked worriedly, no amusement or teasing in her tone.

“Bad memories.” He just said. But she understood well, following his gaze on the castle. She didn’t need a further explanation. By now, they were already on the highest point of the hill, Florian and Jonquil taking their time to take in the sights.

Tearing his eyes away from the castle, he called the other pair. “Here, you guys. Your picnic awaits.” He reached for the second basket on his arm, handing it to an excited Florian.

“Are you going to join us?” Asked Jonquil timidly, staring curiously at the two of them.

Sansa waved her hand and shook her head vigorously. “No, no. You guys go on ahead, I need to talk to Petyr about something anyway.” Petyr turned to look at Sansa, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

The other pair nodded and settled their mat on a further side of the hill, Florian immediately plopping himself down facing the castle of Riverrun. Jonquil gracefully sat down next to him, carefully picking the contents out of their basket.

Operation: get Florian and Jonquil romantically involved, was about to begin.

  
“So,” Sansa gestured to their basket, “shall we?”


	7. Tête-à-tête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A private chat between Petyr and Sansa during a picnic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one! Managed to finish this chapter earlier than expected. YAY ME. Enjoy this one. ;)

Her mother told Sansa very little about her childhood in Riverrun. She recalled asking about what she did with Uncle Edmure and Aunt Lysa on bright sunny days when they were young. She said they would play in the gardens until their skin would be laced with perspiration, with big, tired smiles on their youthful faces, and they would return to their chambers, jittery with excitement about the next time they would play in the gardens. If it was a rainy day, they would stay indoors, where Aunt Lysa and her would knit and sew for Uncle Edmure and Grandfather Tully. But her mother never mentioned about Petyr, which was strange to Sansa. Petyr told her that they practically spent every moment together. _‘She was like a sister to me.’_ He had said to her once. But of course, she knew that her mother was never like a sibling to Petyr, he adored her in a way a brother should not adore his sister. She used to wonder why her mother never did talk about the man. Petyr said that it was most likely because Catelyn considered him to be a bad memory, that should not be allowed to tarnish a pure soul like Sansa. She scoffed at that, mildly irritated at her mother’s antics. When she asked why, Petyr shook his head solemnly and told her that it was a story for another time. She never did brought up the subject again after that. She could tell it was a sore topic for him.

Looking at Petyr now, refusing to even let his eyes wander to the castle by busying himself with taking their food out of the basket, her heart almost broke for him. _What had happened in there?_ She bit her lip in contemplation, wondering if it was time to revisit the untold story.

“Chicken smells delicious.” Petyr commented, as he expertly sliced the meat in bits, arranging them neatly on a plate.

She couldn’t help but smirk. “You wouldn’t believe the method we used to cook it.” When Petyr met her eyes with an expectant gaze, she giggled. “We used the TARDIS’s engine for god’s sake! The engine!”

Petyr let out a chuckle of his own. “Well, it is the Doctor we’re talking about. Nothing is ever ordinary with him.” Sansa nodded, gratefully taking the plate of chicken and mashed potatoes offered to her. He picked up his plate as well, lifting it up slightly with a smile on his face before tucking into his meal. He let out a dramatic moan at his first bite, and Sansa laughed before diving into her own portion.

Her gaze wandered over to Florian and Jonquil, who were both in fits of laughter, pointing at something in the distance. She smiled. _Everything seems to be going great._ As she looked at the happy pair, she couldn’t help but ponder at the possibility of having a happiness as grand as theirs. Could she be as carefree and gleeful as them one day? Would she have a kind husband with two sons and a daughter, like she always envisioned? Would they break their fast together in the mornings, only to fall asleep bunched around each other at night? _Maybe,_ she thought. _When everything is over. When everyone is done fighting each other._ Absently, she forked through her meal, not savouring the delicious taste.

While she was lost in the present, she didn’t notice Petyr staring at her side profile, at her beautiful smile, as if in a trance. The wind was blowing in her hair, tendrils sticking to her luscious lips, pale and slightly dry from the cold air. He was granted the view of the setting sun in front of him, and the amber sunlight shining on Sansa made it look like she was positively glowing. It made his heart clench.

“You’re so beautiful.” He blurted. He had told her she was beautiful countless times before, but each time he said it, he truly meant it.

She turned then, pulled back to the world. And she smiled wider, much to his pleasant surprise. Usually, whenever he complimented her about her beauty back home, she would always brush him off with a mumble of ‘thank you, Lord Baelish’.

“Thank you. And you’re nice.”

Petyr barely suppressed a laugh. “Nice? I’m many things, my love. But never ‘nice’.”

She bit back a smirk, breaking his gaze as she stared at the castle again. “Well, over here I think you’re nice.”

Was that a compliment? He couldn’t be sure. But if it was, he would bloody well take it.

 _Over here..._ He sighed. She was kind and sweet to him now, something that he had been dreaming she would be. But when they returned home, would she retract back to her chilly demeanour towards him? He hoped not. A small part of him hoped that this adventure would somehow change her perception of him for the better. However, the realist in him knew that this was just a live dream, nothing would change between them. They still had wars to face, he had people to manipulate, and he would disappoint her, again. He wanted to shout out in frustration. He knew he was losing her trust and support back home. He sighed. It was his fault for their damaged rapport; he had left her in the hands of the Boltons, a foolish move he would never forget nor forgive himself for it. But manipulation and lies were the only two things he was capable of. Without them, he would be the naive, weak little boy he once was back in Riverrun.

A bark of laughter from in front of them snapped him out of his thoughts, both Sansa and him looking at the legendary pair. He caught the distant, longing look in her eyes and he knew what she was thinking about. An ordinary life. He sighed. Given the choice, he would offer her that in a heartbeat, if they weren’t living in an ugly, messed up world.

Not wanting to dwell further in such horrid thoughts, he opened his mouth, about to ask her about her thoughts on the progress of ‘Operation: matchmake Florian and Jonquil’ when she spoke.

“I wasn’t looking forward to this,” she gestured around them. “But the Doctor told me to give it, give you, a try. He said I might enjoy your company.” Her striking blue was staring intently at him. In the back of his mind, he wondered if that was the reason why Sansa was a lot more accommodating to him back when they were about to leave for the picnic.

Petyr swallowed. “And...are you...enjoying my company?”

She bit her lip, before pushing back a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. How Petyr itched to run his fingers through that hair. “To be honest, I am. I’ve never had such fun in a long time.” He couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you.” He said earnestly, hoping she could clearly hear the gratitude in his words.

Before he could react, she turned to lean forward and placed a quick chaste kiss on his cheek before pulling back, a gentle smile on her face. He could only stare wide-eyed at her, lips parted in surprise.

“I should be thanking you, for such a wonderful day today. You and the Doctor. Well, aside from that stunt in the lake.” She winked, before picking up her plate again, resuming her meal.

“You’re welcome.” He murmured.

 _Did she just give him a peck on the cheek?_ He shook his head with a small smile. He picked up his plate and continued eating.

A sour thought crossed his mind. “So uh...does the Doctor get one of your kisses too? As thanks?” He failed to hide the jealousy, which made Sansa smirk.

She tapped a finger against her cheek, as if in deep contemplation. “Hmmm… it’s only fair. You got a kiss, he should get one too.” She said, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Petyr huffed and pouted his lips. “But you’ve only known him for a few hours. We’ve known each other for years, and I’ve just gotten a first kiss from you.” He was extremely sour about it and he could tell it was amusing Sansa to no end.

“Are you seriously jealous about an ancient Time Lord getting a kiss on the cheek from me?” She laughed out. Even though he was jealous about his alien friend getting a kiss from the love of his life, he couldn’t help but feel elated that he was making her smile.

“You know, I’ve done more things for you than that old geezer in that blue box of his.” He mumbled.

“Old geezer? Speak for yourself!” She smirked.

Oh. No. That was the line and she crossed it. No one can call him and old geezer and run away, especially not her.

Calmly placing his plate of food next to him on the mat, he dropped his pouty facade, eyes darkening with a devilish smirk on his face. Sansa realised the change in him, and immediately stopped giggling. “Me? An old geezer? I can think of a few ways I can prove to you I am definitely not old.”  He suggested.

He heard a mumble of ‘pervert’ under her breath, which made him smirk wider. “What was that?” he asked as he started leaning closer to her, the distance between them shortening.

She sighed, cocking her head to her side and looked at him, eyes roving his face. “I said, with your grey temples,” she reached out and fingered through them, and Petyr almost groaned at the delicious contact, “it’s hard not to think you’re an old geezer.” She said smugly, satisfied at the low growl he’d let out at her words.

“But fine. You have a point. You did do more for me than the Doctor. You helped me become a stronger woman, thanks to your teachings...and your mistake. One which I agreed to on my own free will. So it wasn’t all your fault.” He winced. It seemed she would never let him forget about handing her over to Ramsay. “And I never did thank you for all those.” She murmured, gazing into his dark eyes with gratitude and...nervousness?

Before he could react, again, she leaned in, erasing what little distance between them and met his lips with her own. For a moment, Petyr didn’t move. He was too shocked to even comprehend what had happened. He couldn’t think, but he could definitely feel the warm, soft lips moving slowly against his. Then, something snapped in his brain, probably the raging testosterones, which drove him to respond to her surreal kiss. Gently, he reciprocated her kiss, putting all his effort into the kiss to show her what she meant to him. He heard a small moan, but wasn’t sure who it came from. He brought a hand up to her jaw, caressing her cheek, and that was when the moment broke, and she pulled away from him.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, her now slightly reddened lips still parted. “Was that a good enough token of gratitude?” She sighed, panting slightly.

Petyr stared at her. He did not register her question, for he had only one thought it mind. He wanted to kiss her again.

“Do I get another one in the future?”

To his amusement and surprise, she threw a paper napkin at his face, huffing out.

“Never satisfied, are you?” She asked, with an upward tilt to her lips.  

Petyr hummed. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” He teased, with more truth in his words than he dared to admit.

Sansa laughed. “Greedy old geezer.” He growled. “Hey, didn’t I just prove to you that I am not an old geezer?” To his horror, she snorted. “What? With that kiss?” Petyr’s eyes narrowed. “My lady, I will be more than glad to show you I am not old. You need only let me.” He purred, and Sansa held up a hand in front of his face. “Okay! I think that’s enough wine for you, Lord Baelish.” She took the half filled glass of wine beside him and placed it behind her. He smirked in response to that, deciding to pop a cherry tomato into his mouth instead.

“I do hope you don’t kiss the Doctor on the mouth though.” He said, earning a giggle from Sansa which made his heart soar.

“No, I think a cheek on the kiss would suffice.” Petyr nodded, returning her smile.

The both of them fell into an easy conversation after that, and Sansa told him about her fun with the maidens in the lake and how they thought he was her lover. He had chuckled, saying that for that, he liked the girls and wished for an opportunity to meet them. Which again, earned him another paper napkin to the face.

“The Doctor knows you asked me to marry you?” Sansa asked suddenly.

He winced. Did they have to talk about that now? He shifted on the mat uncomfortably.

“I did tell him, yes. Before I proposed to you actually. I told him I planned on asking you.” He said. She nodded.

“You know, it hurt when you rejected me that day in the godswood.” Petyr mumbled, regretting that he had just exposed himself to her again. He was getting more and more reckless around her, ‘keeping cards close to the chest’ be damned. He was prepared for another rejection now, expecting her to tell him that she would rather marry a pig than him.

“You sprung that on me, Petyr. How was I supposed to react? You don’t expect me to marry you right after we just reclaimed Winterfell, do you? And right after I killed my husband? I had too many things in my mind to think about remarrying.” Her voice was strong, not a hint of fear for the man in front of her. Petyr wondered if that was a good or bad thing.

“Yes, you’re right. I suppose I only thought about myself then, wanting you to myself.” His voice was smaller than hers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He should be in control of the situation.

“You know, men usually run away after hearing that the woman fed her husband to his wild dogs.” She deadpanned.

He smiled widely. “But you know that I am not like the usual men.” He remembered feeling pride mixed with a tinge of uncertainty when he heard that she had killed Ramsay with his dogs. He expected her to sentence him to death by execution, one which her half-brother would carry out. He certainly did not expect for her to bring death by irony to Ramsay. He had fed his dogs many unfortunate people, and in the end, Sansa fed _him_ to the dogs. But of course, now he knew that crossing Sansa would be a very dangerous and foolish thing to do. Who knows what she will feed him to when he made her angry.

“I think it earned me an auspicious title now. ‘Lady Sansa, the husband killer’.” She giggled, more amused than sad at the fact of being feared by others.

“Well, it certainly has a ring to it.” He commented.

“Why did you propose?” She asked. It seemed like they were never leaving the subject, then.

 _Don’t say something wrong. Don’t say something wrong._ He reminded himself like a mantra.

“I thought it was obvious.” He said, letting her guide the conversation.

“So it was just a political marriage to you then? So that you can solidify your hold on the North?”

He shook his head. “No, the North will never follow a southerner like me. The North backs no one but the Starks, Lady Mormont said it herself. I admit, I did think about its advantages, but I’m sure you know the real reason why I want to marry you.”

Sansa raised her eyebrow. “To want a replacement for my mother to bear your children that you wished you could have with her?” She tested. Petyr’s eyes widened at her accusation. “Do you really think that? That when I see you now, I still see your mother?” He was hurt she would think that. Aside from her looks, he saw absolutely nothing of Catelyn in Sansa. They were worlds apart in terms of character. Catelyn would never kill her husband in cold blood, she was too demure for that. She would never lie for a man like Littlefinger, she was too noble for that. She would never have rebutted his flirtations with her during their travels like Sansa had, Catelyn was too proper for that. And she would never have kissed him like how Sansa did just moments ago, not like how Catelyn had used to kissed him, like how she treated him as nothing but practice.

Sansa shrugged, looking back at the castle of Riverrun. “She’s dead. I’m like an incarnation of my mother when she was young, when you stayed with her in Riverrun, when you loved her as a boy.”

He shook his head again, this time lightly grabbing her shoulders, willing her to look at him. “And that is how my love for her stays. As a boy. The boy in me loved her. But I am not a boy, no more.” Sansa met his stare fiercely, and he could tell she was trying to understand his love for her. One of his hands left her shoulder to trace the hidden scar on his chest. He wondered if telling her about it would convince her of his love lost for Catelyn.

“But back at the Eyrie, when you told Aunt Lysa that you loved only one woman…-”

“I told her what she needed to hear in order to stun her completely.” He offered, and that was no lie. He did tell Lysa he only loved Catelyn so that it would distract her enough for him to throw her through the moon door.

Sansa nodded slowly. “So then...why me?” She asked again.

He sighed. “I don’t know, really,” he laughed humorlessly, “I don’t even understand half the emotions I feel when you’re around me. Everyday, when I see you, I feel the overwhelming urge to make you mine. I feel like I’m another person, when I’m with you. I feel lighter, happier, younger.” He looked at her, to find a lopsided smile on her cheeks. He let out a breath, feeling like a heavy weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

“Now I _know_ you’ve had too much to drink.” She teased. Petyr huffed out a laugh. The sun was almost gone now, the moon high above the sky. The people in the village had lessened considerably. The high walls of Riverrun were now an almost black shadow, save for the few lighted torches mounted where the guards were.

His gaze travelled to the spot in front of them where Florian and Jonquil were, only to find that they were nowhere to be found, their picnic gear was all packed up and gone along with them. _They must have left while we were too preoccupied._ Petyr mused. He pointed over to their friends’ absence and Sansa laughed.

“Where do you reckon they went off to?”

Petyr smiled. “If things went according to plan, I have a few guesses.” He said, his smile turning into a wide smirk. He was hit with another paper napkin and an utterance of ‘pervert’. Petyr idly wondered how many napkins she brought with her.

“Come on,” Sansa started packing their empty utensils into the basket.

“Where are you going?” Petyr asked. She rolled her eyes and pointed in the direction of the village. “Back to the TARDIS of course. It’s late.”

Petyr let out a dramatic sigh and plopped down onto the picnic pat on his back, facing the starry night sky. “I don’t think I can trekk down the hill, it’s too dark and I’m an old geezer, there is a high possibility I might trip and fall to my death.” He pouted at Sansa, patting the empty spot next to him. Sansa’s eyes narrowed. “Lie down with me? The sky is beautiful tonight.”

“Petyr…” She said warningly. “The Doctor will have wondered where we gone to if we don’t return. He might be worried.” Petyr waved his hand dismissively, eyes still upward at the stars. “He will understand. Besides, didn’t he tell you to enjoy tonight? Enjoy my company?” He turned his head to look at Sansa pleadingly.

She blew out a breath. “Oh alright,” she packed the remaining items into the basket and carefully moved to lie beside Petyr, with a small but palpable distance between them. “Oh, you’re right. The sky is beautiful tonight.” She stared at the darkness above them in amazement. The bright stars dotted the black sky, and she found three of them aligned perfectly.

“You know what’s even more beautiful?” Petyr asked, staring at Sansa’s blue eyes in the dark.

Those dazzling blue eyes rolled at him. “Let me guess, me? I know how this pick up line works, Lord Baelish.”

Petyr placed a hand on his chest and dropped his mouth open in mock shock. “I can’t believe how egotistical you are, Lady Sansa! I was going to say the village lights. But oh my, I didn’t realise how vain you are.” This time, a paper napkin wasn’t thrown at him, but a petite hand slapped his shoulder. “Idiot!”

Petyr laughed heartily, taking the hand that had slapped him before giving it a quick affectionate peck.

“I’m only japing with you my love. Yes, you are definitely more beautiful than the night sky.” He said, caressing her skin in his grasp.

“Hm...I think the wine hasn’t drained out of your system yet, Lord Baelish.” She moved closer to him, seeking his warmth from the cold evening air. Petyr let go of her hand, in favour of  wrapping around her shoulder and resting it on her arm, bringing her closer to him. He hummed at the contact. “It may be so, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa could feel her heavy eyelids drooping, the satisfying meal from earlier making her dozy and sleepy. Unconsciously, she snuggled into Petyr’s shoulder, the smell of mint wafting through her senses. She could feel him tracing patterns onto her bare forearm, eliciting goosebumps on her flesh as he trailed over them.

“So we really are going to stay the night here, aren’t we?” She asked, voice muffled by her face in his shoulder. Petyr only hummed in agreement, fingers still gliding over her skin.

Sansa let out a tired yawn. “Okay. But don’t try anything, okay?” The cruel touch of Ramsay still haunted her and she didn’t feel ready for anything more than a kiss and a hug from anyone. She could hear his intake of breath next to her and looked up to find him staring down at her. He gave her a tired smile. “I promise. No hanky panky. Not until you ask for it.”

She couldn’t help but snort. “Hanky panky from you? Who would want that?” Her snort turned into a giggle when Petyr growled. “Ha-ha. Fine. No hanky panky for me.”

By now, she could barely keep her eyes open. Covering her mouth from a big yawn, she patted Petyr’s chest lightly. “Goodnight, Petyr. Thank you again, for today. I enjoyed myself.” She felt him tense for a moment beneath her palm but relaxed soon after. “Goodnight, Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you were looking forward to the Doctor appearing in this chapter. He will come back in the next one. :)


	8. The Impossible Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor has been struggling with something for a long time and he needs help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter for the week. :) Enjoy.

The Doctor fiddled with the piece of garment between his fingers with furrowed brows. It was a black leather jacket, one he swore he’d seen countless times on someone, someone who he should know but can’t seem to remember for the life of him. He bit his bottom lip in contemplation, wrecking his brain for any memory of the person who left it behind. He knew, from the size of it, that it belonged to a woman, a petite one. He vaguely wondered if it belonged to the faceless companion whom he, for some reason, lost memory of. He knew her name was Clara, and that they travelled together. But that was about it, he knew nothing else about her. He could still feel the elation and adrenaline rush from when they travelled through all of time and space - when they visited the Oriental Express and Mars. It was frustrating, to not be able to remember something you desperately want to.

He had a gut feeling that Clara was a very important person to him, someone who he cared for very deeply. And seeing how she wasn’t around any longer meant that he lost her, or she left him. A familiar dull ache in his hearts reignited, the ache of a love lost.

There was more than one occasion where he thought of how she smiled, or laughed. Or how she’d react when he showed her new places and worlds. But alas, he always came to a black hole in the pit of his memories regarding the woman. He knew his memory block was not done without valid reasons, which meant that his faceless woman was partly the cause of this mess. He tried to look for her, he really did. Once, he even asked the TARDIS about her. But she refused to tell him anything about her, saying that it was for his own good. He pouted at that, wondering why not remembering her was for his own good. In the end, he had given up his search on her, resorting to visiting distant planets for occasional company and trying to forget his faceless woman. She was simply impossible to find. Soon, she became an impossible girl to him.

But he can’t deny that seeing his new companions - Petyr and Sansa, and their newfound friends; it struck a chord deep in his hearts. And he knew it had something to do with his lost companion. The Doctor saw how Petyr looked at Sansa, how he adored her, and the Doctor felt that his lost female friend had given him that same adoring look before. Again, the ache in his chest begged him to find her. He glanced at the TARDIS’s scanning panel, wondering if he could scan the jacket in his hands to run a search on the location of his impossible girl.

Looking around the TARDIS, he sneaked to the panel, and placed the jacket on the scanning plane. Quietly as he could, so as to not alert _her_ , he pressed numerous buttons, getting ready to initiate the scan.

But before the first rays of light from the scanner could touch the clothing, the screen in front of him turned black, and the whole scanning machine was shut down.

“Damn it!” The Doctor cried out in frustration and slammed his fist down onto the panel, earning a gloomy sound from the TARDIS.

Five feet from him, a digital image of himself was projected. It was the TARDIS’s interface.

“Why won’t you let me find her? Please, I need to.” His voice trembled as he spoke to the interface. His pale, droopy, expressionless face stared back at him.

“It is for your own good. Finding her would just be pointless.” The interface’s voice sounded emotionless.

The Doctor shook his head. “Why? Is it because she doesn’t want to see me?”

Nothing but silence met his words. It was no point. The TARDIS wouldn’t reveal anything about his faceless girl. Grunting in anger, he swiped the black jacket off the scanner, and draped it over his armchair. Casting one last look at it, he turned at bounded for the exit.

Staying in the TARDIS would just cause more pain for him. He had to leave.

 

____________________

 

It was dark outside, save for the village lights lining the streets. The once busy stores were now closed and quiet, except for a tavern down the end. The Doctor made sure to land the TARDIS in a secluded area, hidden from curious eyes. Saves himself from questioning and accusations that he was an evil wizard. After all, his coat made him look like a wizard, and the angry eyebrows made him appear evil, or so Petyr said.

The Doctor had to admit that it was a peaceful, beautiful place to visit. _Petyr did pick a good place to show his little lady around._ He idly wondered how his date with Sansa was fairing.

With no other agenda in mind, he decided to head over to the tavern, feeling up to a few pints of Maidenpool’s ale.

When he reached there, he was mildly surprised that it wasn’t crowded. He expected people in the medieval times to be more cheerful and rowdy, especially at night. But no, it was just a few men at the bar, with the bartender wiping mugs with spit and cloth. The Doctor ordered a pint and sighed as he sat on a wobbly stool. It wasn’t long before a familiar mop of blonde hair caught his eye.

“Florian?” The mop of hair looked up, and green hues stared back at him.

“Doctorrr? Whaa-What arrre yeee doin’ ‘ere?” Slurred the man. The Doctor frowned.

“Are you okay? Aren’t you suppose to be with Jonquil and the rest?” The Doctor wondered if their double date had ended already. If it did, shouldn’t Petyr and Sansa be back too? Staring at the drunk in front of him, he had a hunch things with Jonquil didn’t turned out how they’d hoped to be.

As it turned out, he was right. Florian scoffed at the mention of Jonquil, sliding his filled cup of ale carelessly toward the Doctor, before shifting two stools closer to him. “J-Jonquil? She’s meaaan.” He huffed, plopping down onto the seat.

“Hmm,” the bartender came back with his ale and he thanked him, sipping on his own ale. “What did you do, Florian? Probably something ungentlemanly.” He murmured, finding the ale to be surprisingly sweet.

Florian chugged down his pint of ale, signalling for another one. “Are you sure you should have another round? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Florian scoffed and waved at the Doctor. “Am fineee. I bet I could hold my liqourrr better than ye, Doctor.” The Doctor rolled his eyes. In the long years that he’d lived, he had only came across two people who had a better alcohol tolerance than him, and they were both non-human species. Time Lords were almost immune to alcohol and hangovers.

It was a short silence between them before Florian slurred again. “I proposed to ‘er again. Said I could make ‘er happyy. She told me ‘er damn father wouldn’t allow it, said that I was too fuckin’ low born. And I said…” Florian paused, gulping down a fresh round of ale.

“Said what?”

Florian slammed the ale down onto the table. “I said fuck him.”

The Doctor clicked his tongue. “Bet that didn’t go too well with the missus, huh?”

Florian shook his head. “Nu-uh. She went wild. Said somethin’ like if I can’t accept her father, I don’t deserve to marry ‘er.” The Doctor sighed. Some people just don’t know how to woo a lady.

“So I’m guessing she cut the picnic short and stormed off?”

The drunkard nodded his head emptying probably his tenth glass of ale. “Sure did. Stupid lovebirds were too busy fucking sucking each other’s faces off to notice our squabble.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrow at the mention of the other couple. _Well, at least one couple had a decent date. Go Petyr._ Florian was mumbling into his empty cup something about older men fucking ladies young enough to be their daughters, and how jealous he was of Petyr.

Getting up from his stool, he placed a hand on Florian’s shoulder. Florian looked up with glassy eyes. “I think it’s time for you to head to bed. Don’t you? Maybe tomorrow, you could try again with Jonquil, and hope things turn out for the better this time.” He patted his shoulder, and Florian nodded, shakily rising. He lost balance a few times, but the Doctor was there with a steady hand.

“Got a place?” He asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to put up with a puking Florian in the TARDIS.

Florian nodded at the bartender, and pointed at the stairs of the tavern, which was leading up to an upper level. “Dayne got me for the night, first door to the...uh, right.” He grunted, starting to sound more lethargic than drunk and the Doctor knew he needed to get him to his bed before he passed out on him.

Swinging an arm around the Doctor’s neck, he guided Florian up the steps, catching him from tripping down the stairs a few times. When they arrived at his door, the Doctor pushed it open to find a simple bed and bedside table in the room, and a small dusty window by the head of the bed, allowing the moonlight to spill into the dark room. The Doctor guided a wobbly Florian down onto the straw bed, before striking a match on the bedside table to light a candle. Once the room was dimly lit, he turned to find Florian groaning with his arm thrown over his eyes.

“You can look forward to a killer hangover tomorrow.” The Doctor said.

Florian peeped at the Doctor from underneath his arm and snorted. “Don’t remind me, Doctor. Anyhoo, I think your mates are still up on that hill. They’re probably fuckin’ by now. Lucky little shit Petyr is.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Indeed he is.” Checking that Florian would be okay without him, he quietly made his exit, an unwanted picture of Petyr and Sansa in compromising positions ingrained in his brain. “Ugh.” Shaking his head from the impure images, he made his way back to the TARDIS, intent to tell Petyr and Sansa about their failed mission in the morning.

 

____________________

 

The first thing that Petyr felt, when consciousness began to seep back into him, was the searing pain in his back. _That’s what I get for sleeping on the hard ground. Fool._ Readjusting for a more comfortable position, he next felt a weight on his chest and a lighter weight across his waist. Squinting his eyes open against the bright sunlight, he felt his heart flutter at the sight. Sansa was draped across his person, still in a deep sleep. The sight of her snuggling against him almost made him think that the persisting pain in his back was worth it. Almost. Petyr raised a hand to her cheek, brushing a few auburn tendrils away to reveal her angelic face. He could hear her deep breaths, an indication she was oblivious to what he was doing or about to do. Mustering enough energy, he craned his neck and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before falling back down onto the mat.

Grunting, he reluctantly pulled away from her embrace in order to sit up, stretching his back. He twisted and turned, cracking bones in his lower back in the process. His sigh of relief was what woke her up.

“Petyr?” He turned around to see her half awake, but a small smile on her face nonetheless.

He returned her smile. “Good morning, my love. I apologise, I would be more than happy to continue lying with you, but my old back was protesting against the uncomfortable ground.”

He heard her giggle. “I thought you said you’re not old?” He smiled, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue. “Hmm...With my back, I’m not sure myself, but,” he faced her, his trademark smirk in place as his voice dipped lower, “if you’d let me, I’m sure I could convince the both of us that I’m not old yet.”

Sansa gaped, catching his innuendo and reaching for the first thing she felt, she threw it at his face. As it happens, it was another paper napkin.

“What the-?” He snatched the napkin away from his face and glared at Sansa. “Exactly how many napkins did you bring along with you?” He growled and started crawling towards her like a predator.

Sansa, who was still on her back, raised a dainty foot to his shoulder, stopping him from coming closer. She smiled. “Enough to keep perverts like you at bay.” Petyr quirked an eyebrow at the pale foot on his shoulder, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Hm, better stock up more on those napkins. I hear some _perverts_ are relentless.” Surprising her, he took her foot from his shoulder in his warm grasp, and placed his lips on her ankle. Her audible gasp brought a smirk to his lips. He had an effect on her.

“W-we should start to head back. I imagine the Doctor would be worried.” Sansa stumbled, pulling her foot free from his hold. She immediately started packing up their mat, pulling it from under Petyr.

“Sansa? What’s wrong?” She winced. He always knew when her mood shifted, and not a second too late either. She shook her head and tried her most convincing smile. “Nothing. But we should head back.” Petyr looked like he didn’t believe her still, but seemed to let it slide for now. Saving the conversation for later, he helped her pack and together they made their way down the hill.

If Sansa was being honest with herself, it was the thought of actually having gentle feelings for the man that made her shirk away from his touch. The previous day may very well be one of her best days she had in a long time, and it was alarming to know that Petyr was the cause of it. Well, and the Doctor of course, but Petyr was the cause of her happiness yesterday, and Sansa did not regret one bit of it. She had to remind herself that the Petyr before her now was not the same Petyr back home. Back home, he was the lying, manipulative man who had killed and betrayed for his own personal gain. But here, in this perfect world, he was everything she wished he was - kind, funny, sweet. Littlefinger was nowhere in sight in this world, thank god. The only thing that was constant between the two Petyrs, was his unbashful display of affection towards her. It was the only thing she felt familiar with and retaliating his flirtations made her feel safe, that she could rely on this common ground with him. But when he’d kissed her ankle like he worshipped her, a spark ignited within her - a feeling that she was so sure had died a long time ago along with her affection for Joffrey. Sleeping beside Petyr under the stars had also been one of the nicest things she had in a long time. She was able to sleep peacefully and soundly, without worry that Ramsay would shake her awake and harm her in all the ways he did. She knew that during the night she had snuggled even closer to Petyr, draping her arm around his waist. She couldn’t help it, it made her feel safe and warm all over.

Sansa looked at the man treading down the hill along with their picnic basket in front of her. Right as she had a sneaking suspicion about her questionable feelings for the man, he turned to glance back at her. _No. She can’t be having affections for Petyr._

 

____________________

 

“It’s about time you two remembered this old man.” The Doctor grumbled as he watched the two of them enter the TARDIS.

There was an obvious distance between them, making the Doctor frown. Florian had said the two were practically snogging each other’s faces off when Jonquil and he left.

“Everything okay?” The Doctor asked when neither of them responded to his half-hearted joke.

He received a reassuring nod from Petyr, but Sansa stayed silent, a slight frown on her face. Then, a fear struck the Doctor. “Sansa? Did he -,” the Doctor swallowed, “hurt you?” He was aware that Petyr has widened his eyes tenfold, darting between Sansa and the Doctor.

Sansa snapped her head up to look at him and shook her head vigorously. “No no no. He didn’t. If anything, he was a sweet man all evening. Although, his sexual innuendos were a tad bit too much.” She smirked at Petyr. Petyr sighed in relief, knowing that he hadn’t hurt or offended Sansa in any way. He smirked. “It was? Sansa, if I was being too sexually positive, all you had to do was ask and I’d gladly channel some of those innuendos into something...productive.”

The Doctor cringed. Okay, so maybe nothing was wrong between the two of them.

Sansa jerked a thumb at Petyr and looked at the Doctor. “See what I mean, Doctor?” Petyr laughed.

“Well, it’s nice you two had a nice evening canoodling. Sad to say, I can’t say the same for our dear friends Florian and Jonquil.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “What? What happened?”

The Doctor proceeded to tell the both of them of his encounter with Florian at the bar. “Apparently, you two were busy ‘sucking each other’s faces off’ to notice what happened.” The Doctor deadpanned. Petyr coughed and Sansa’s cheeks flushed. “It was just one kiss…” She trailed off, embarrassed. Petyr, on the other hand, was not. “Hm. One mind blowing kiss, I might add.”

The Doctor sighed. Great, their mission to get Florian and Jonquil romantically involved turned into getting Petyr and Sansa into each other’s pants.

Sansa threw a dirty glance at Petyr before turning to the Doctor. “Well, we can’t just sit around here knowing they are angry at each other. Come on, we have a legendary couple to save.”

The Doctor nodded in agreement, but Petyr sighed. “I rather much spend more time with Lady Sansa here,” Sansa shot a dirty look, “but, for you, sure. Let’s get them back together.” Sansa beamed in response. Leaning towards Petyr, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek and thanked him. The Doctor looked at them with mild surprise, at the gentle display Sansa showed him, when just the day before she had berated him for spying on her bathing. But the Doctor was taken by even a greater surprise when Sansa approached him and gave him a peck on the cheek too.

A warm flutter spread in his chest, and he raised a cool hand to his warm cheek. “What was that for?” He asked. The Doctor did not miss Petyr’s knitted brows and pursed lips.

Sansa smiled at him. “Thank you. For taking me here, it’s been absolutely wonderful so far.” The Doctor smiled warmly at her and bowed slightly. “It is my pleasure, my lady.”

Clapping her hands, she spoke in a jovial tone. “Now! Let’s go find those troublesome two and fix this. It’s time for a plan B.” Without looking back, she turned and left the TARDIS, leaving the two men.

“Were you jealous that she kissed me on the cheek?”

“No. She gave me one too.”

“Ah. She’s a really sweet girl.”

“She is.”

“I hope you don’t muck it up and lose her.”

Petyr turned to look at the Doctor. His face was downcast, a faraway look on his face.

“You’ve found someone you care for deeply. Hold her tight, and don’t let go.”

He knew the Doctor was thinking about _her._ His heart constricted in his chest, remembering the sad tale the Doctor told him a while ago.

“I need your help, when this is done.”

Petyr remembered the day when the Doctor first met Sansa, when he told him that he hadn’t come into Winterfell on a whim, but because he needed his help.

“Has it got to do with her?”

The Doctor nodded solemnly. “I need to know what happened. And I don’t know if I can do it alone. The TARDIS doesn’t want to help.” He whispered.

Petyr nodded. “Okay. I’ll help you when this is over.” The Doctor looked up with teary eyes. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Petyr was taken aback by the look on the Doctor’s face. No one had ever looked at him like that, eyes full of gratitude and hope. Something in him broke, something Petyr had been nurturing since the day Brandon Stark cut him down, but Petyr paid no mind to it.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised I said earlier at the beginning of the story that there will probably be no real plot in this story, but at this point, I'm not so sure. Haha, I feel a plot brewing here.


	9. She's gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something goes amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for the week! :D

“No.” 

Sansa’s eyes widened, lips curling into a frown. “What? Why not?” 

The Doctor stared at Sansa, sighing in exasperation. He had to explain the concept of time loops once again.

“Because, if you do that, it will change the past and the consequence of those events will never bring us to where we are now in the present. Paradox loop. We wouldn’t even be standing here right now.”  He explained, not surprised to see a confused Sansa staring back at him. 

“It’s -”

“Timey wimey stuff, I get it.” Sansa cut in, holding a palm up to his face. The Doctor huffed and lightly swatted her hand out of his face. 

At that moment, Petyr strolled in, munching on a blood orange. He tossed an apple to the Doctor, who swiftly caught it.  

“Problem here?” He narrowed his eyes at the Doctor. He offered his half of the blood orange to Sansa, which she gratefully accepted. 

“Sansa here, wants to go back to last night on the hill and change was said during the heated exchange between Florian and Jonquil.” The Doctor said, biting into the apple with a loud crunch.

Petyr’s eyes softened at her efforts to bring the two back together. If there was anyone who still had a touch of hopeless romanticism in them, it was her. But Petyr couldn’t help with the voice in the back of his head wondering if the sad truth to the grand tale of Florian and Jonquil was indeed a tragic one, with no happy ending. After all, some histories and timelines are so intertwined that changing their course of events could possibly result in catastrophic consequences. However, looking at Sansa and the hopeful look in her huge eyes, Petyr didn’t have the heart to tell her. 

They hadn’t approached Florian and Jonquil since the previous evening, at a loss of what to do with the two. Petyr suggested the trio retreat to the TARDIS to think about their next plan, and they did just that.

“I don’t understand. What could be so bad? The most that could happen is that you’d probably never meet Florian back in the tavern.” 

The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. Glancing between his two companions, he gripped Sansa’s shoulders lightly and nodded to Petyr. “No. That’s not the most. If you go back and change things, you might never have spent the night with Petyr on that hill, your conversations from last night might never happen at all.” 

Petyr could see the slight satisfaction on the Doctor’s face when Sansa’s mouth dropped in shock. She finally understood the possible repercussions if she went back in time and changed the past. If Petyr was being honest, he didn’t want Sansa to go back in time either. Their wondrous kiss might never happen if they did. 

Petyr could see the frustration rising, heating Sansa’s pale cheeks. “So what do you suggest we do, then?” She crossed her arms, a displeased look etched onto her features. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled her to his side in a hug, rubbing her shoulder in comfort. He was silently pleased she didn’t pull away or tense in his arms. Instead, she pulled his arm closer to her, hugging it. 

The Doctor frowned at their small display of comfort and whipped around, gripping the edges of his control panel tightly, which did not go unnoticed by Sansa. Mistaking it for anger, her own anger deflated, and she reached out to tug on the sleeve of the Doctor’s jacket with her free hand. The Doctor turned, only to be pulled into her embrace, hugging him. Petyr inwardly smiled at her kind gesture, though it was meant to calm him down. In truth, he knew the Doctor missed a certain someone’s hug, and craved her familiar touch. 

“I’m sorry.” Sansa mumbled to the Doctor. He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m not mad.” 

The three time travellers stood in the middle of the TARDIS, locked in a tight comforting embrace. There was a chirpy sound from the TARDIS, and the Doctor’s lips tilted in amusement. “She thinks you two are good for me.” 

There was a snort from Sansa and Petyr chuckled. She patted the Doctor’s chest. “Of course we are. Aren’t we?” She turned to Petyr with a quirked brow, to which Petyr winked in response. “Of course.” He smiled. 

Right then, looking at the only two people he trusted in the world, Petyr wanted nothing more than to abandon his previous life, and start anew with them. Just the Doctor, Sansa and him in the TARDIS, travelling through all of time and space. How tempting it was. 

Their contentedness was short-lived however, when suddenly there was a loud banging noise coming from the door of the TARDIS and a familiar gruff voice shouted, “Doctor! You in there? I need your help!” 

Immediately, the trio broke apart, and the Doctor swiftly opened the door of the TARDIS, letting a disheveled looking Florian in. 

Before anyone could ask what happened, Florian stammered in a shaky voice, “J-Jonquil. Sh-she’s gone.” 

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat, her mind immediately conjuring up scenarios in which she was ‘gone’. 

“What do you mean, gone?” Petyr’s calm, strong voice resonated around the TARDIS.

Florian took a deep breath, retracing his steps. He told them that he had set out to find Jonquil earlier that morning, to apologise for his rude behaviour the night before, but she wasn’t at home. When he’d searched for her father, he found him teary eyed, mumbling through blurry vision that his precious daughter had not returned since that afternoon in the lake. Fear rising in his gut, he’d gone to look for her maiden friends, who disappointingly had the same distressing response. By then, Florian knew something was amiss. Jonquil would never cause worry to her loved ones, especially her family. Not once, since he knew her, did she ever attempt to run away or leave without a moment’s notice. Knowing Jonquil might be in terrible danger, the first person Florian thought of, was the Doctor. 

“We need to find her.” Sansa turned around to the Doctor, determination ablaze in her steely eyes. The Doctor nodded in agreement, before gesturing Florian over to him. 

Florian walked wearily around in the TARDIS, having been his first time in a time machine. But he didn’t comment on its wondrous size on the inside, or the blinking dials and shiny buttons, for the only thing on his mind then, was the safety of Jonquil. 

They were standing in front of a section of the panel, which had what looked like layers of white gel-like substance embedded into the panel. At Florian’s inquisitive gaze at the mechanism before them, the Doctor gingerly took his hands in his and slowly brought his hands towards the gel. 

Florian’s eyes shot towards the Doctor, anxiousness creeping in. “Wha-what are you doing?” When the Doctor didn’t answer and continued tugging his hands towards the substance, Sansa moved to interfere, worried that the Doctor would hurt him. 

But a firm yet gentle squeeze on her arm stopped her, and she met Petyr’s calm eyes. He shook his head, knowing what she was about to do. He leaned in to whisper to her. “The Doctor is trying to help Florian locate Jonquil. It’s called a telepathic circuit. The TARDIS uses the person’s memories interlinked with the target to locate them.” 

Sansa widened her eyes in wonder.  _ The TARDIS is able to do that?  _ Turning back to the Doctor and Florian, she watched on in anticipation and hope. 

The Doctor gently gripped Florian’s shoulder, garnering his attention and focus on him. “Do you trust me?” 

Florian swallowed nervously, eyes darting between the Doctor and Sansa. When she gave him a reassuring smile and a nod, Florian met with the Doctor’s eyes, a steely resolve behind his green ones. “I do.” 

The Doctor smiled, nodding towards the telepathic circuits. “I’m going to hook you up into the TARDIS telepathic interface. She is going to sift through your memories for Jonquil’s probable location.” 

At Florian’s befuddled look, the Doctor shook his head and instead thrust Florian’s hands in between the gel-like substance of the TARDIS, earning a surprised yelp from the man. Florian furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on the surreal feeling of the weird substance surrounding his fingers. It was warm and slightly wet, and it felt like the gel was sinking into his skin, gripping him further into the machine. Feeling curious, he pinched the substance, earning a sharp sound from the TARDIS. He startled when he heard the Doctor’s cry. 

“Hey! Don’t hurt her! What did you do?” Florian stared at the Doctor like a deer frozen in headlights. 

“I-I’m sorry. I was just-” 

“Well stop it. The TARDIS is not just a machine. She has feelings too. Treat her nice.” He warned, a slight edge of threat to his voice. Florian nodded, too scared to speak. 

Sighing, the Doctor spoke. “Now, I want you to focus on Jonquil. Think about her. Don’t think about why she went missing or the fight you two had last night. Focus on her and on this - bringing her home to you.” The Doctor’s voice broke at the end, and Petyr bit his lip in worry for the man. The faraway look was back on his pale face. Petyr called his name and the Doctor snapped back to reality. He shook his head slightly, and gave Petyr a small smile. 

Sansa watched Florian, his eyes squeezed shut as he murmured to himself. She could hear bits and pieces, they were all pleas for Jonquil to return to his arms, that he was here for her, promising he would bring her back home safe and sound. She was still holding onto Petyr’s arm and unconsciously, she gripped his arm tighter to her chest. The movement did not go unnoticed by Petyr, and she missed the tender smile on his lips. 

Within seconds, the lights on the ceiling of the TARDIS started to blink, and sounds emanating from her brought an excited smile to the Doctor’s face. A moment later, the TARDIS shook and rocked before stilling immediately after, startling everyone but the Doctor. “She thinks Jonquil is here.” His excited smile confused Florian, as he thought it was not a happy matter when Jonquil’s life might be in danger. Sansa shot a disapproving look at the Doctor’s bright smile, and he immediately dropped it. He glanced at the frown on Florian’s face and apologised. “Sorry. The telepathic circuits successfully locating someone never fail to excite me.” 

“So she’s here then?” 

The Doctor punched numerous buttons on the panel, pausing to look at the screen. He tilted his head, a small smile appearing on his lips before he hummed in agreement. “Pretty sure.” 

Without warning, Florian bolted for the exit, slamming the doors behind him. The Doctor shot a scowl at the doors. “Would it kill him to treat my TARDIS nicely?” 

Sansa let go of her Petyr’s arm, much to his disappointment, and approached the Doctor. “Where are we?” 

The Doctor was silent as he slid the screen to Sansa. It was the TARDIS’s camera, overlooking the outside of it. It looked like they were in the middle of a forest, high above the ground, overlooking a castle. At first glance, it looked like the walls of Riverrun, but on closer inspection, the castle was smaller in size, and there were considerably lesser guards stationed around it. She then saw the back of Florian, treading slowly on the tall grass towards the direction of the castle, with fists clenched beside him. When he stopped to crouch down, it was then that she saw the familiar hazel curls, sitting on the grass with her back towards Sansa, facing the castle. At the touch of her shoulder, Jonquil turned to face Florian, with tear-stained cheeks and quivering lips. All of a sudden, he threw his arms around her, and Jonquil retaliated, wrapping her arms around his back clutching him to her chest. She saw their lips moving, but Sansa couldn’t decipher what they were saying. 

Should they intervene? Find out what dampened her moods? Certainly it wasn’t Florian, for she was holding onto him like she may lose him the next second. She felt Petyr presence, standing next to her and taking in the scene. “Best to leave them alone. It seems private.” He answered her silent dilemma. As always, he knew what she was thinking. She turned to him, defiant. “But, they could use our help.” He chuckled and tentatively wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her to him. “And we will lend them our help. If and when they ask for it.” She looked at him with those warm blue eyes that could drown many men. He couldn’t resist, he leaned in and placed a warm kiss onto her forehead, shutting his eyes at the sensation of his warm lips on her cool skin. 

He let out a shaky sigh against her skin. By the gods, he would do anything to whisk them away from the cruel world they lived in. He was pretty sure Sansa would not resist in the slightest at the notion of escaping. But, they had unfinished business in the North, hell, they had white walkers invading the seven kingdoms to deal with. And Petyr was willing to bet her half-brother would skin him alive if he found out his dear sister had been - as he would bluntly put it - ‘kidnapped’ by a lecherous old man. Petyr hoped to dear god Sansa didn’t think of him that way, that he would go to the extent of kidnapping her if she resisted him. He would never hurt her, especially after the Boltons.

A slight tug on his doublet brought him back to reality. He raised an eyebrow at her, at which Sansa smirked. “The Doctor’s gone.” She whispered. Seven hells, that sounded like it had an underlying meaning to it. What a tease! Petyr met her eyes with calculative ones, nodding at the evident absence of the Doctor. “He is.” He murmured, wondering where she was going with this. 

He was half surprised when she leaned in, so much so till her desirable lips just met the shell of his ear. He felt a puff of warm air against his skin, and an involuntary tingle shot through his body down to his groin. She had done this a few times before, when they were travelling through the country, so this was not something new to him, and yet, he was still undeniably affected by her. Petyr remembered that the only reason she would mercilessly tease him, was because she wanted something from him. 

He waited patiently for her next move, still with bated breath. “We’re alone.” She breathed into his ear.  _ Oh, was she ever the temptress!  _ “We are.” Petyr almost chuckled, overly pleased with her flirtatious advances. Instead, he looked at the screen in front of them, at Florian and Jonquil. They were now sitting side by side, Florian’s arm snugly around Jonquil. He idly wondered what made Jonquil disappear earlier in the day, but thoughts of her immediately dissipated when he felt Sansa’s naughty lips on his earlobe, lightly nibbling on it. “Focus on me.” Ah, so Sansa noticed his attentions on her had tilted towards the couple in front of them.  _ Such an observant girl. I’ve taught her well.  _ His chest bloomed with pride for the woman in front of him. 

Petyr couldn’t resist her any longer. He turned to face her and wasted no time capturing her lips with his. He heard a small squeal from her and he smirked into her lips. Petyr snaked his arms around to the small of her back, securing them there. She wasn’t about to go anywhere for a while. At her surprise, he seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into her open lips, meeting hers, and he groaned at the contact. She wasn’t hesitating with the kiss either, tongue stubbornly fighting for dominance over his. The kiss was vastly different from the ones they always shared. There was no gentleness about it. This time, it was raw, dripping with passion and lust. And by the gods, did he not want it to ever end, to be permanently locked to her lips. Petyr was vaguely aware of her arms around his neck and he wondered when she had done that. At that point, he didn’t care if the Doctor walked in on them or an army of white walkers trampled in, he wanted to take her away, preferably to a nice, comfy bed, to shower her with so much pleasure she wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. 

He felt her arms tighten around his neck as she stepped closer, pressing up against the plane of his body. She moaned and Petyr suddenly felt that his breeches was too tight for comfort. He wanted to go further, right then, right there, on the panel of the TARDIS. He didn’t care if it would offend the TARDIS or the Doctor. The desire to be buried in between her thighs was overriding any sense of decency. Boldly, he pulled her hips towards his groin, letting her feel him, hard and hot against her thigh. If Sansa disliked the motion, she didn’t show. Instead, she smiled against his lips, proud of what she could do to him. 

A small, determined voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Sansa hadn’t initiated the kiss on a whim or for her own pleasure. She wanted something from him. Reluctantly pulling away from her now swollen lips, he blinked at her, momentarily disorientated. 

“Why did you stop?” She asked in a daze, disorientated herself. 

He shook his head, mentally righting himself. “You want something from me.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I thought that was obvious.” 

It took him a moment to realise she was referring to him. “No. You want something...information, a favour. What is it?” 

She couldn’t possibly have seduced him for the sole reason of wanting him for her own pleasure. She always had an ulterior motive for seducing him, be it wanting insight into his grand scheme, or information on people. It was never because she truly, genuinely liked him. He knew that, because he was guilty of the same as well. Not with Sansa, but with Lysa. He had seduced her that helped him into getting a seat in the small council of Robert Baratheon after all. He wondered if it was just karma coming to bite him. 

Her hard look softened, and Petyr waited to hear her demand rolling off her sweet lips. She brought a hand up to the side of his neck, threading her slender fingers through the short hair at the nape. The tender look on her face made his insides warm and fuzzy. 

“No. I don’t want anything else,” she smiled, “not this time.” Before he could ask her if she truly meant it, she closed the distance between them, sealing his answer with another kiss. Hell, Petyr didn’t think he would ever get used to her surprising him with her kisses. Happily relenting, he pulled her closer to him once more, getting lost in the feel of his Sansa. 

“Ahem.” 

Sansa jumped, breaking their kiss, and Petyr groaned loudly in frustration. The Doctor stood behind them, arms crossed over his chest with a wry smile. “Well, I see Florian was right. You two really can’t stop sucking each other’s faces off.” 

Petyr chuckled at Sansa’s guilty expression, twiddling her thumbs acting like she was a young maiden getting caught kissing by her father. 

“Where did you go?” Petyr asked, his arm still wrapped securely around Sansa’s waist. 

The Doctor scratched his head, pointing to a doorway that lead to more rooms in the TARDIS. “Had to check on something.” He mumbled. Petyr nodded, not believing him for a second.

A knock at the door of the TARDIS drew their attention away from the Doctor. 

The Doctor snapped his fingers, prompting the doors to open, and a happier looking Jonquil walked in, a smug looking Florian in tow.

“Hey you guys, everything’s okay now.” Florian beamed at their questioning gazes. 

“Oh, I was so worried for you. What happened?” Sansa asked, leaving Petyr’s side to Jonquil enveloping her into her arms.

Jonquil giggled, returning the fierce hug. “Sorry about that. After our little squabble last night, I was more upset than I expected. I took a walk to clear my head, and ended up getting very lost. Silly me.” Jonquil blushed. 

Florian laughed. “She walked and walked for about ten miles away from Maidenpool. It’s no wonder I couldn’t find her.” 

Jonquil gave Florian a peck on the cheek, a bright smile on her face. “But you did.” 

Florian smiled. “We did.” 

Sansa heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that Jonquil was safe, and everyone was happy once again. Florian drummed his fingers on the panel of the TARDIS, much to the Doctor’s chagrin. “So! Can we head home now?” 

  
The Doctor rolled his eyes at him, before grunting in agreement. “Back to Maidenpool.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think the adventure with Florian and Jonquil will come to a close in the next chapter or so. :) Feedback is appreciated! And see you guys next week.


	10. She's ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr runs off, and Sansa goes after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the chapter for the week! I think this chapter might be fun for yall. ;)

It had been exactly two days since she dropped everything she knew, left behind people she cared about, to embark on a ridiculously joyous journey. Well, everything and everyone except for the man whose head was currently perched in her lap, eyes smooth from crinkles that would be present if they were not blissfully shut at the moment. With a hand that would have been hesitant a few days ago, she threaded her fingers through his dark hair, still slightly mussed up from their earlier activity.

They were all sitting around the fire, magically set up by the Doctor with his weird pointy stick. Florian and Jonquil stared with their jaws and eyes as wide as the Wall at the magician at work, effortlessly summoning hot, burning flames from cold, dry logs that they’d found in the nearby forest. Florian heartily accused the Doctor of medieval witchery being in league with the devil, earning a playful slap on the chest from his glowing bride. Yes, Florian proposed to Jonquil once more, thankfully in a more proper manner, although the TARDIS was not much of a romantic setting to propose to one’s love. Much to Sansa’s pleasant surprise, Jonquil nodded her head vigorously in response to the proposal, loss for words. She thought Jonquil’s father’s strict rule of having her wedded to a legitimate prince would stay her eager heart from jumping into Florian’s arms, but Sansa had been wrong before. Petyr, on the other hand, had politely uttered a curt congratulations to the pair, before stalking off, leaving the rest of the company bewildered.

“I’ll talk to him. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Sansa offered with a meek smile, before trailing after the troubled man.

The Doctor sighed telling the other two they might as well start a small camp while they waited for them to return. Florian and Jonquil merely jerked their head in response, before setting out, hand in hand to find wood for the fire. The Doctor wasn’t too worried about Petyr. After all, he had a rough idea what ailed him, and he knew and trusted Sansa to comfort him.

But Sansa was a different story. Mind whirling with possible reasons for his abrupt exit, she struggled to keep up with the man storming off into a small field, her long skirts preventing her from breaking out into a run to catch up to him.

“Petyr!”

He didn’t respond, continuing to stomp his way through the tall grass.

She grunted, frustrated for his sudden change in attitude, frustrated at her skirts for restricting her movement, frustrated that she didn’t know him well enough to know what was wrong.

“Petyr! Slow down! Tell me what’s wrong!” She tried again.

This time, he did slow down, but instead of turning to her, he dropped down onto the edge of the tall grass, and his whole body suddenly disappeared from her line of vision. Heart skipping several beats, she picked her skirts up even higher, rushing over to where she last saw him. Thoughts of him collapsing from exhaustion or even a heart failure flashed through her mind.

As she neared her destination, finally catching up to him, her breath caught in her throat at the sight. He was hunched over, elbows propped up on bent knees with his fingers clutching deep into his jet black hair. His palms rested over his eyes, letting out steady breaths. Sansa felt her heart tug at the sight, and it was only a while later that she discovered she didn’t want to see Petyr distraught ever again. The thought terrified her.

Giving him silence, she brushed her skirts, picking dirt off that got caught when she brushed through the tall grass and settled quietly next to him, a small distance between them. They were on the edge of the small field, and she realised that Maidenpool had more than enough spots with a gorgeous view. This time, they were overlooking a wide lake, its waters glimmering against the evening light. There was a nearby village, although not as popular and bustling as the previous one. She made a note to visit the village later if there was time.

It felt like an hour had gone by, before there was a hitch in Petyr’s calm breaths. Sansa turned her head, expecting him to start talking.

“Why did Jonquil accept Florian’s proposal?” His somber voice cut through the silence in the air.

Sansa was taken aback. Wasn’t it obvious? For a clever man, he sure didn’t know romance and love well enough.

As if answering her silent question, he elaborated, “I mean, why him? A low-born fool like him? Doesn’t Jonquil want a prince in shining armour instead of a hedge knight?”

Ah. So he was perplexed as to why Jonquil accepted his love even though he was seen as undeserving of her to the public eye.

Sansa understood where he was coming from, she too had been momentarily stunned when Jonquil said yes to Florian. All her childhood life, her mother had told her she would marry a handsome prince, who was much deserving of her love. Unfortunately, she and her family thought that prince was Joffrey. Joffrey dashed her dreams of marrying a grand, noble prince in shining armour the day he branded her a traitor, humiliating her in front of an audience in the gates of the Red Keep. From that day, Sansa didn’t really fancy princes any longer, no longer believing that they deserved the promise of love from fair maidens. Eventually, she believed that a person is truly deserving of another when they are solely devoted to each other, both in mind and soul, no matter their rank or status.

But apparently, Petyr still believed in the silly ‘rule’ that only high-borns had to wed other high-borns. For a golden moment, Sansa was struck with the thought that Petyr’s scale up the ladder was so that he could reach a high ranking position where he could marry her, a high-born. Sighing, she scooted closer to him to drape a delicate arm around his hunched shoulders, soothing him.

“They love each other very much. Jonquil loves him despite his status. And Florian is foolishly brilliant enough to love her despite her royalty. Sometimes, even that can’t stand in the way of true love.”

Sansa was shocked at her own words. When did she start believing in true love? She wondered if it was when she witnessed the beautiful romance between Florian and Jonquil.

There was a scoff from him, and she knew it wasn’t to mock her. “True love…What is that, anyway? How do you know it’s true love?”

He still hadn’t raised his head to look at her, content to burrow his head like a hurt puppy between his hands. Sansa hummed in thought, choosing her words carefully, for a man like Petyr Baelish, he was very particular with words.

“Well, I don’t think there’s a fixed definition for that. Everyone experiences their true love differently. It’s defined in the feeling of loving someone, I think. You don’t know, but you can certainly feel it. The feeling that it is right to be with that person, through thick and thin, no matter who they are or what they did before meeting them.” Sansa paused, looking over to see him picking his head up slightly, intently listening to her.

She continued, “and it’s not just a fleeting feeling either. You feel them in your bones everyday, every moment. You can’t bear to be away from them for too long. When you’re with them, I think you feel that everything just clicks into place. And you feel at peace, blissful.” Sansa didn’t know what she was saying, but she was running her mouth based on what she felt for the man next to her. She certainly couldn’t forget him sending her off to the Boltons, that was forever ingrained into her mind and body, but she knew it in her heart that she forgave him for it. And that terrified her beyond measure. A part of her knew she was supposed to hate the man, for carelessly submitting her to reckless abandon, but she stubbornly couldn’t, not after everything he had done for her. He may have done those things for the sake of garnering her trust, but she found that it didn’t matter, for she still foolishly believed he genuinely cared for her. He didn’t express it in words, he didn’t have to. He conveyed his care through his actions, and that was enough for Sansa to believe he held some affection for her.

She recalled feeling lost and scared when he had left her alone in Winterfell, even though she was home, she felt alone. She prayed every day he would return to Winterfell, saving her from the clutches of the Boltons, and it was his parting words - ‘you’ll be strong without me’ that had kept her going through hell on earth.

When she had met up with him again at Mole’s Town, in the dingy torn down brothel, she felt as though her heart had been torn away from her chest, hurt that he didn’t love her enough to come back to her. She unleashed her pain against him, lashing out bitter words at him. She knew he was deeply affected by them, she could see it in his eyes, brimmed with tears, but at that moment, she was too hurt and angry to run back into his arms.

When he was back with her at Winterfell, her home reclaimed from the Boltons, she felt better, knowing he was by her side once again. But it was not until recently that she discovered her feelings for him had morphed into something terrifyingly more. She was a fool, loving the devil. _Sansa the Fool,_ she mentally giggled.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a deep chuckle next to her. _Well, someone’s finally feeling better._

“You sound well beyond your years, Lady Sansa. Your profound words are beyond my understanding.” He teased, yet with a serious undertone to it. He was gazing at her now, his fingers lacing with hers around his shoulder.

A smirk formed on her lips. “Well, I learnt from the best, Lord Baelish.”

To her pleasant surprise, he let out a hearty laugh, straight from his warm chest.

“I see you’re feeling better.”

Petyr quirked an eyebrow, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, I might still be feeling a little blue. But, perhaps,” a smirk grew on his mischievous face, and Sansa knew what he wanted before he even asked for it.

“Perhaps a little kiss would take all the pain away.”

Sansa stared at his smirking face, mentally shaking her head. _Well, he didn’t specify what type of kiss he wanted._

Teasing him, she inched closer to his parted lips, but before her lips touched his, she moved her head, planting a peck on his cheek instead. She leaned back, amused to see his parted lips curling into a frown.

“Not the one I wanted.”

She couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped her lips. But before she could respond, Petyr closed in and captured her lips with his, drawing a moan out of her. Petyr hummed in response, delighted by her reaction. Lips moving against lips, it felt that they had done this a million times, both familiar with each other. She felt him nibbling against her bottom lip, and she eagerly parted, letting him in. She was mildly aware of his arms wrapping around her, tugging closer to him. It was their favourite dance, a dance between passionate kisses. But like all dances, they needed a break, and it was with reluctance that they pulled away for much needed air.

She wasn’t surprised to find herself resting in his lap, staring down into his dark lustful gaze. Her arms were flung around his neck, pulling him close to her. She didn’t bother to hide her own desire in her eyes, wanting him to see how badly she wanted him, hoping he wanted her too. Their breaths in shallow pants, he reached up to trace a finger across her chin, slightly red from the friction against his beard. His eyes roamed her face, and she was content to let him do so, her own gaze roaming his older face.

Hands on her waist in a light grip, he ground her hips against his, staring at her for a reaction. She could feel his arousal, pressing up against her needy core. She was sure her underclothes was embarrassingly wet. Her breath hitched when his manhood brushed against the place she needed him most. Petyr took that as a positive sign, continuing to lazily ground her hips against his aching member, occasionally with small bucks of his. One particular jerk from him caused her to momentarily lose balance, falling further into him until her chest was pressed up against him with her lips close to his ear.

“Petyr…” She whispered hotly, voice dripping with need.

Petyr swallowed, caressing her clothed hips. “Yes, love?”

He jerked once more beneath her, drawing a loud gasp from the woman above him.

“I need…”

“What do you need sweetling?”

“I need…”

Another hard jerk from into her hot covered heat.

“Oh!”

Petyr turned his face slightly towards hers, whispering against her smooth pale cheeks.

“Use your words, love. Where was the girl who used such profound words from before?”

He felt her arms tighten around his neck. She mumbled into his ear, which he heard, but he knew she could do better than that. He encouraged her to speak up, reassuring her that no one was around to hear their passionate conversation.

Panting against his ear, he heard her moan.

  
“I need you Petyr. I’m aching so badly.”

“How do you need me?” She was finally saying the words he dreamt of her saying all those nights, waking him up with an aching hard-on that could only be satiated by his fist around his cock. But now, now she was real, not just a dream, not a hallucination. She was resting above his hardened prick, declaring her need for him.

“I need you inside me, Petyr. Please.” He heard her whimper through needy moans.

Petyr never thought he would hear sweeter words from the beauty perched in his lap. He couldn’t stop her name from rolling off his tongue, moaning along with her with another jerk from his hips and a slow grind from hers. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to have her now.

He kissed her, before patting the small of her back, urging her off his lap. She took his hint, moving off of him to lie down onto the soft grass beneath. As her back hit the ground, she let out a shuddering breath, staring up into the heated gaze of Petyr.

He stared at Sansa, awaiting his next move. He decided he would take his time with her, being their first time together, he wanted it to be memorable for her. Hopefully, it would not be their first and only time.

Petyr moved closer to her, shrugging off his doublet, carefully laying it beside them. He noticed her tense slightly and his heart tugged in his chest. _Fucking Ramsay._ He cursed his dead face, cursed he would rot and burn in hell, cursed the whole Bolton house. But most of all, he cursed himself for ever letting her into the hands of him.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re -”

“I’m ready, Petyr. I want to forget him. Please, the only way to make me forget his body ever touched mine, to erase his touch, is for you to touch me. Please.” He was proud of her, listening to her strong voice despite the horrors she had been through. She was a strong lady, and he never respected a woman as much as her.

Petyr gave her a smile, one which she bravely returned. Deeming it safe to advance, he leaned an arm on the soft grass, next to her head, so that the side of his body hovered over hers. With his free hand, he ran tentative touches along the length of her body. Pausing in between until she gave him permission to continue. He was determined to make her forget about Ramsay, and he was going to do that with his pleasurable touch.

Gently, he palmed a breast, looking up to her face when a moan left her lips. He smiled, encouraged by her needy response. He continued his sensual caress on her breast, and when he stroked his thumb across her hardened peak, she gasped, arching up to press more fully against his body. Her thigh pressed against his crotch, relieving some of the ache from the pleasurable contact.

He stroked her nipple again, and this time Sansa pulled his face towards her, locking their lips once more. He groaned into her hot mouth, giving her breast a firm squeeze. She gasped his name into his mouth and before Petyr could control himself, he started grinding his hips into her thigh, needing to relieve some of the ache.

“Do you feel me, sweetling? Feel how hard you make me?”

Her cheeks flushed from his words, embarrassed at how straightforward he was. But it turned her on even more, positively feeling new heat pool down in her groin. She nodded into his lips, moaning when she felt his bulge brushed against her clit.

Petyr wanted to drown in her sweet moans. They were the sweetest music to his ears. He reached out to pull the string of her travelling cloak loose, and Sansa was all the more eager to get rid of it, tossing it to one side.

He chuckled at her eagerness, delighted at her need for him.

“Your turn, Lord Baelish.” She smirked, nodding toward his undershirt.

“Very well, Lady Sansa.” He effortlessly tossed his shirt, and the cool air met his warm skin, causing goosebumps to race across his flesh.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to do this out in the open.”

Sansa shook her head, eyes still fixed on his. “Pretty soon we would be sweating. Then we wouldn’t be cold.” Petyr gaped in surprise at her innuendo, his cock twitching eagerly in his pants.  

He was about to respond, when she gasped. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what made her do so.

“Ugly, isn’t it?”

“What happened?” Without thinking, Sansa traced a cool fingertip along the deep scar on his chest, from navel to collarbone. Petyr shivered at the contact.

“Your uncle Brandon. He nearly cut me in half, were it not for your mother. I was a foolish little boy.”

He followed her wandering gaze, but before she could question further, he stopped her.

“Later, sweetling. I rather not be reminded of the past when I have the beautiful present in front of me.” He smiled earnestly.

The frown on her lips relaxed at his words, but he could still see the cogs turning in her mind, trying to figure everything out. He needed to get rid of that. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he brought his lips to hers.

He pulled back. “Are you sure about this?”

Sansa stared at Petyr’s lips, before giving him a small, firm nod. To emphasise her need for him, he felt her hands run down from the scar on his bare chest, to his cloth covered hips, caressing the skin above the band of his breeches.

There was a faltering hesitation in her fingers, before she dipped them beneath the waistband, boldly cupping him, skin on skin. He let out a shaky breath at the cool sensation of her icy hands on his warm member.

“ _Unnhg- Sansa…”_

He shifted slightly above her, switching arms to lean against the grass.

Sansa stared, transfixed at his reaction from her simply touching him. She wondered if she could make him writhe and squirm beneath her touch. She had never held a man’s prick in her hands, not even her dead husband’s. And she was glad she never did, curse his soul. She weighed his member in her warm palm, fingers wrapping around, giving him a slow stroke. He bucked above her into her hands with a low groan, and she beamed. _He was putty in her hands._

“Sansa...you have no idea what you do to me.”

She sped up her movements along his shaft, slowing when she was at his tip to swipe the precum leaking there. His breaths came in pants now, and Sansa guessed he was close.

A particular tug on his member made him collapse onto the ground above her, his one arm giving out, but he still made sure he wasn’t crushing her beneath his weight. He burrowed his face into the column of her pale neck, harsh pants blowing against her skin as she continued her pleasurable movements.

“Sansa…”

He warned her he was too close, warned her that they should stop if she wanted more. And just like that, she ceased her movements, hands leaving the confines of his pants. Disappointment almost flooded him, were it not for the promise of something greater - of finally being intimately connected with her.

Not wasting any more precious time, he reached to bunch her skirts above her hips, but not before checking for signs of hesitation. When there was none, he pushed the thin material higher, dragging her underclothes along with it, bunching them around till it reached the underside of her chin. He wasn’t prepared for the sight before him.

Her body was pale and smooth, save for the numerous marred skin across her tummy and her upper thighs. It took him a moment to realise those were scars from cuts courtesy of Ramsay, and he felt sick, knowing he handed her over to a monster.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out hoarse, cracking at the end.

He jumped when her fingers caressed his cheek.

“It’s over now. Besides, now we’re both the same - we have scars from the past.” He smiled at the optimism in her voice, chest bursting with pride at the woman beneath him.

“I’ll never leave you alone again with people we don’t know, I swear.”

“I know.” He sealed his promise with another long kiss.

She was the one to break the kiss, brushing strands of his hair that had fallen out of place. “Make me forget, Petyr. I want to completely forget.”

“I trust you.” She added.

Her words stirred something within him, and he smiled at her.

“You are so strong.” He whispered in awe.

Fumbling hands pushed the waistband of his breeches down, enough to free his still aching member. Her hands gripped him again once more, twitching eagerly at her soft gaze on his cock. His own hands moved to remove her small clothes, bringing them down her hips to her ankles. A slight tug and they were off, baring her nakedness to him. He stared unabashedly at the flaming red curls between the apex of her thighs, unconsciously licking his lips.

He wanted to taste her. But that had to wait, for now, he needed to be snuggled deep in her to warm him from the chilling air. It was her who guided him closer to her dripping opening, both of them moaning when the tip of him touched her wetness. It was her who smeared her fluids with the dripping head of his cock, making him impossibly harder. And it was her, who pulled his hips closer to hers, slowly sheathing himself completely in her, finally joining the two of them together.

Moans filled the air at the union, and neither of them cared if they weren’t the only ones on that small field. She felt so warm and tight, and perfect around him. He couldn’t move, for fear of accidentally spilling himself into her too quick, which would be an utter disappointment to both of them. They were staring intently at each other, both memorising each other’s reactions to the feel of him inside her.

“Please…” She begged.

He knew what she wanted, slowly withdrawing his hips from hers just to sheathe himself back in. They continued that way for a while, savouring the feel of his cock slowly but surely filling her completely to the hilt.

She begged for more once again, and he failed to repress his chuckle. “Greedy, aren’t we?” He teased.

To his delight, she laughed, and he wanted to ingrain that sound into his brain, never forgetting her beautiful laugh.

Complying with her wishes, he started to pick up his pace into her, occasionally snapping his hips hard into her, drawing a gasp followed by a moan from her. He felt his balls tighten, and knew his end was near. But he wanted her to be the first to break.

He brought his lips down to a hardened nipple, licking and sucking the peak there. She whimpered and moaned, arching her back and pushing her breasts further into his hungry mouth. Her hips met his, thrust for thrust. She was a beauty, writhing under him. Her hands moved into his hair, messing his hair up even further.

A grunt left his lips, his pelvis not stopping from bucking wildly into her. Their movements signalling their desperate for release. He was so close, but she had to come first. He brought his fingers down to her fiery curls, searching for the engorged nub there. She gasped when he brushed against her clit, before moaning when he massaged it. His fingers moved in time with his hips, pleasuring her simultaneously. The movements on her nub switched paces, from slow massages to quick strokes, finding out which she liked best. He found that she _loved_ it when his fingers were quick and fast around her nub.

Before long, she was whimpering into his ear, telling him she was coming. He whispered sweet nothings of encouragement into her ear, telling her to come for him, telling her how tight she was around him, telling her he wanted to stay forever lodged in her.

His words did the trick, pushing her over the brink of ecstasy, her walls clamping so hard around him he had to squeeze his eyes shut from making the mistake of coming along with her. He let her ride her high, eyes fixed onto her climaxed features. She was beautiful. When it was over, he pumped into her three more times before pulling out of her. He let out a shuddering breath, both of them staring at his fluid spilling from his member, creating a beautiful mess on her skin.

Both of them were still staring at her tummy, taking their time to catch their breaths. It was a while before he reached for his shirt to clean up the mess, taking great care over her scars there. He brought her skirts down over her, smoothing the creases, before giving her a peck on the lips. They reached for their discarded clothes and hastily put them on, before falling back onto the grass side by side.

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed.”

They caught each other’s eyes, before erupting into small laughters.

“Thank you, I didn’t know it could be that pleasurable.”

He turned his head, frowning. “I promise, from now on, it will stay that way. Pleasurable.”

Sansa let out a content sigh, smiling up at the evening sky above them. A sense of déjà vu washed over her at the similarity of their situation and the previous evening also spent with him under the stars. The only difference was, they were not curled up against each other after a nice meal. This time, they were curled up against each other after a bout of exciting love making. She grinned, replaying the events that occurred just moments ago in her head.

It was more than pleasurable. It felt like she had been reborn, her old life shackled to the haunting presence of Ramsay Bolton was evaporated into thin air, and she was now blessed with this thrilling new adventure she had with Petyr.

But was it the same for him? Was he still curbed to his past like a ball and chain? _No. No more hiding._

“Was uncle Brandon part of the reason why you ran away earlier?”

He flinched, and it was awhile before he spoke. “I didn’t run away.”

“You did.”

Petyr sighed, deciding it was only fair to tell her his past if he knew so much of hers. He owed her that, at least. They both have been through so much together - she lied for him, saved his ass more times than he deserved, she even listened to his instructions.

“Having experienced the heartache of seeing someone you loved choose duty over love, I found it difficult to accept the fact that Jonquil accepted Florian despite her duty to marry a prince.”

“Are you still bitter about her?”

He knew she was referring to her mother, the woman who shattered poor Petyr’s heart into pieces and dashed his dream of marrying a princess all those years ago. But she was also the woman who beckoned the clever, cunning man into light, shoving the pitiful, foolish boy into a dark closet, lost and forgotten.

An upward curl formed on his lips as he shook his head. “I told you in the godswood, didn’t I? The past is gone for good. You, my love, are my future.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Freaking smut got in the way, so there will be another chapter with Florian and Jonquil. HOPEFULLY, their story would end in the next one and no more smut gets in the way of the plot moving forward. Have to up the rating once again. sigh. haha.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated and I'll see ya lovelies next week. :)


	11. The Parting Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last laugh before they part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, back for another chapter. :) Enjoy, and if there are mistakes in the chapter, please forgive me. I will rectify them ASAP.
> 
> Also, if you notice my writing style changing or anything like that, I apologise. I am a new writer, so I'm sort of experimenting with different writing styles. :) Forgive me.

When they returned to their makeshift camp, they didn’t bother to hide their satisfied grins nor cover up their haphazard state of appearance. It didn’t take long for the three of them to figure out what had happened. After all, they reeked of sex and sweat.

The Doctor averted his eyes back to the fire after acknowledging their return. He was never comfortable with intimate touches. Hugs and quick pecks on the cheeks, he could do. But anything more than that? He shifted in his seat on the log.

“Feeling better, I see eh, Petey?”

Petyr threw a half-hearted scowl at Florian, annoyed at the stupid nickname.

Florian and Jonquil were cuddled together against a log, snuggled comfortably in front of the crackling fire. The girls smiled at each other, content.

“I apologise for my abrupt departure earlier. I didn’t mean to appear rude. I was troubled, but I’m fine now.” Petyr smiled, glancing at the woman beside him.

“I bet.”

Jonquil playfully slapped Florian across his chest.

The newly arrived pair plopped down against an empty log, across the other couple. Petyr was exhausted, worn out from their earlier activities. He smiled in satisfaction. Boy did he want an encore of their performance. He felt his eyes droop, much to his protest. Sansa noticed, moving to lay his head in her lap.

“Rest. We don’t have to be anywhere for now, right Doctor?”

The Doctor nodded, throwing a concerned glance at Petyr. “Right. We can settle here for awhile.”

Petyr hummed in acknowledgement, snuggling into her skirts. Before long, he fell asleep, much to the amusement of the rest.

“You really tired him out, did ya?”

Sansa blushed.

Florian smirked. “Good for him. And you too.”

She nodded, mumbling her thanks. She settled her fingers in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

“Lucky old bastard gets the young beauty. He needs to teach me a trick or two.” Florian grumbled, glaring at the dozing man in her lap.

“Am I not enough for you, Florian?” Jonquil gave a theatrical gasp, brows furrowing but a small upward tilt to her lips.

Florian chuckled, bringing the woman in his embrace even closer to him, planting a kiss to her temple.

“Of course you are, darlin’. You are more than I deserve.”

Sansa smiled at the pair. She always envisioned Florian and Jonquil to be a legendary couple, the perfect picture of happiness and love, where no imperfection or flaw could ever touch them. But meeting them in person, she discovered they were just like any other ordinary couple - they had messy fights, ugly crying like any other couple. They were not all sunshine and rainbows. But it was the flaws that brought out the best in the relationship, tying them even closer, pulling them through the storm to view the rainbow on the other side together.

“So, mission accomplished, eh Sansa?”

She turned to the Doctor, a wide smile on her face. “Mission accomplished.”

The Doctor returned her smile, gesturing to the couple.

“While you two were away, they told me about their wedding plans. They plan to be wed a month from now. And we’re invited to the ceremony.” He smiled, waiting for a small cheer from the woman.

But it didn’t come. Instead, a frown passed over her features. He asked her what was wrong.

“We can’t stay that long. I have to return to Winterfell, Jon needs my help, I can’t just-”

“Sansa.”

She stopped mumbling to look at the Doctor’s quirked brow. He pointed to the blue machine parked snugly in front of a bush.

“Time machine. Remember?” He smirked.

Realisation hit Sansa like a ton of bricks and she erupted in laughter, mentally slapping herself for being so silly. Of course, they could just skip time ahead to attend the wedding. How silly of her.

“I don’t think I can ever get used to having the ability to time travel on a whim.” She said, her eyes trained on the raging fire in front of them.

The Doctor hummed in agreement. “No, after all these years, I still feel the thrill of it all.”

“How long have you been travelling?”

“Too long.”

“Were they all good years?”

“No.”

“Who was she?”

When she mentioned _her,_ the Doctor snapped his head to turn and lock eyes with her. There was a steely front in his green eyes, an emotional wall.

“Did Petyr tell you?”

Sansa shook her head. “It was the way you casted your eyes away like you had been burned when you witnessed any display of affection between Florian and Jonquil, even with Petyr and me,” she smiled sadly when he frowned, looking away from her. “It didn’t take long to figure out there was a woman in your life.”

“She wasn’t just a woman.” He whispered, sounding like he was a galaxy far away.

At her inquisitive gaze, the Doctor sighed, reciting the story of Clara, and how his life had upended when she left. He wasn’t surprised when Sansa showed compassion towards him, vowing to help find his impossible companion. After all, she tried hard to bring Jonquil and Florian together.

“We’ll help you find her.” She said, and the Doctor failed to repress a smile. “You say that as if Petyr and you are an item now. Have you accepted his marriage proposal?”

Sansa tensed, the sudden reminder of the looming proposal hanging above her head like a flashing sign.

To be frank, she didn’t know what her answer should be. Now that her feelings for him came into the mix, she wasn’t sure either option was a fantastic idea. If she accepted his proposal, she could keep him close, monitor his every movements. But there would be a constant worry that he would take over the North and push Jon out of the picture, which contrary to Petyr’s belief, she didn’t want him to. Half-brother or not, she considered Jon to be her brother, a Stark, and no Stark should be left alone. On the other hand, if she were to reject his proposal, Petyr wouldn’t have power in the North, he couldn’t possibly take over the North. Or could he? There was no telling what Petyr would do. Sansa didn’t like either options, she didn’t want him to leave her alone again. Now that she was slowly realising her gentle feelings for the man, watching him get hurt by her rejection would cause her pain as well.

“I take that as a ‘no’ then.”

She was so deep in her thoughts she forgot to reply the man. “I don’t know, Doctor. If only there weren’t political issues involved, just pure love, my answer would be swift and simple.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Nothing in life is ever simple my dear. If it was, everyone would be happy and carefree.”

Sansa looked down at the man still chasing dreams in his sleep. He looked peaceful, no scheming eyes and mischievous lips. He looked... _innocent._ In this state, Petyr didn’t look like he had the capabilities kill kings and wreak havoc and chaos. She bent down, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead, and Petyr hummed in his sleep. For a moment, Sansa was stricken with worry that he was awake the whole time, listening in to the conversation she had with the Doctor. Petyr finding out about her weakness for him was the last thing Sansa wanted him to know. There was still an inkling of worry that he would use that against her for his own benefit, she wouldn’t allow that. But Petyr resumed his deep slumber, light snores telling her that he wasn’t faking sleep after all. She smiled softly at the sound of his snores. _He really is exhausted._

She head Florian calling her name, rousing her from her observations of Petyr. “So, I never did ask you guys,” when Sansa raised an eyebrow, he continued, “which time do you guys belong to? The future?”

Ah yes, Sansa expected that question sooner or later. She nodded in response, before adding, “a few thousand years into the future.” A low whistle sounded from Florian.

“Damn, I was flirting with a maiden hundreds of years younger than me.” Florian winced, but the quirk of his lips was not missed by Sansa.

____________________

 

In the TARDIS, the Doctor rummaged through his stash of knick-knacks in his bedroom, tossing aside weird objects he’d picked up from distant planets over time. Most of them he had no recollection of ever taking them with him, and for what reason too.

Finally catching sight of the burgundy instrument, with a little bit more excitement than expected, he pulled it out amongst the toys in the box.

“There you are.”

It has been a while since he played his guitar; been a while since he heard the beautiful strumming of guitar chords ringing out throughout the TARDIS. He’d been too depressed and distracted to have the mood to play a few notes. The last time he played the guitar, it was in that peculiar diner, the one that had mysteriously dissipated around him as he played the song for _her_. He named it Clara, after the waitress at the diner had asked him about it. She did more than ask him about the song though; interestingly enough, she had asked him about the faceless companion he had lost, and he told her all that he could remember of her. The nameless waitress had listened intently, big brown eyes focusing on every word that spilled from his lips. For a split second, he thought he had seen those big brown eyes somewhere before, on someone he knew well. But just as quick as the thought came, he dismissed it.

When she asked if he was looking for his faceless companion, he said he was trying, hard. But of course, his efforts were to no avail, all he could remember about Clara was their travels together, other than that, it was a big black hole in his memories. With a slight teasing voice, she had said that Clara could be anyone, even her. But when the Doctor told her that if there was one thing he’d know, that if he ever met his Clara again he’d absolutely know, her face fell and  for a second the Doctor worried that he had said something to offend the kind girl. But then she gave him a small smile and he was content enough to take that as a no. Shortly after, they parted, and the whole place evaporated around him as he played the last bar of his song.

After that, he had stashed away his guitar, deciding he wouldn’t have time for it if he were to find his lost companion. He had told himself that once he found her, only then would he pick up the guitar and play her song for her. But here he was, picking the damn thing up without her around. Truth be told, he was starting to lose hope on finding her. Maybe the universe wants that, he thought. Maybe she was always meant to be lost, and the Doctor finding her could potentially cause catastrophic events - like giant ripples in a pond; across the entire planet.

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, fingering the guitar straps of his guitar. No, he made a promise to Clara, that he would play her song for her once he found her, and he would do just that. The universe can shit itself.

With a new determination, he breezed out of the TARDIS, guitar in hand, with a big smile on his face.

____________________

 

When he rejoined the group, Petyr was already awake, smiling with a comfortable looking Sansa tucked under his chin.

“Hey, Baelish. Had a good rest?”

Petyr nodded, a slight smirk on his face. “This minx here wore me out good.”

Florian erupted into laughter, clapping a hand to his chest. “Oh! We know, you don’t have to tell us.”

Petyr ignored the amused Florian and pointed at the guitar in his hand. “What’s that?”

The Doctor raised it higher when he saw all eyes on him and on the strange looking object  he held. “This? It’s an electric guitar - a musical instrument.” He smiled, silently amused at the curious eyes.

“Here, let me show you.”

He walked towards the centre, next to the now quieting fire. Tugging a log beneath him, he sat with a sigh, slinging the guitar strap around him and setting it snugly into his lap and under his right arm.

“Are you going to sing for us?” Jonquil asked, and he could see the raw look of excitement in her eyes. It warmed the Doctor’s hearts, and he nodded in reply with a beam.

“You could sing along, if you want, but I doubt you’d know the lyrics.”

The Doctor took a deep breath, before strumming the strings, the familiar E-minor chord humming. He smiled at the melody, realising he missed playing the guitar more than he thought.

_Of all the money that e'er I had_

_I've spent it in good company_

He threw them a shy smile, one that all of them happily returned. Sansa snuggled deeper into the chest of Petyr, prompting his arms to tighten around her. Jonquil leaned her body back  into Florian’s between his knees, fingers intertwined, caressing over each other’s skins. He was happy that they were all happy, even though the happiness may not last forever.

_And all the harm that e'er I've done_

_Alas it was to none but me_

The love displayed in front of him was obvious. It reeked of passion and desire and care. The Doctor may not know either of them that well, with the exception of Petyr, but he knew, from the look on all of their faces, they wouldn’t hurt each other intentionally. He smiled as he switched his fingers to a G-major chord, thinking that he was lucky to have met such jovial, caring people.

_And all I've done for want of wit_

_To memory now I can't recall_

At that moment, he realised he would miss all of them, even the foolish Florian and the beautiful Jonquil, when they returned to their respective times at the end of the day. He grew very attached to this silly bunch of humans, and the thought them leaving left a constricting feeling in his chest. When they leave him, he would be left all alone, once again. He had no one to go home to. There was Gallifrey, his home, but, what good would it do for him to return? Besides, he didn’t know where Gallifrey was, it’s still lost in another dimension. It was at that moment, his longing for his lost companion increased tenfold. His memory of her may not be a hundred percent there, but his hearts seemed to have not lost the strong feelings he had for her. If she was here, he could go home to her.

_So fill to me the parting glass_

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked back hard to keep them at bay. This was supposed to be a relaxing, cheerful night. There was no way the Doctor would ruin that for them.

_A man may drink and not be drunk_

_A man may fight and not be slain_

He sniffed once, and one look at Petyr’s narrowed eyes on him made him momentarily hate the man for his sharp observation abilities. It was hard escaping Petyr’s scrutiny. If he wants to study something or someone, he did it intently, putting all his effort into it, not allowing to miss any observations.

_A man may court a pretty girl_

_And perhaps be welcomed back again_

His gaze travelled from the attentive Petyr to the peaceful-looking woman wrapped around him. He never had the opportunity to properly ponder on the woman, having been distracted since they got here. Looking at Sansa now, he smiled, knowing that he never once regretted meeting the lady. He knew she was a royalty back home, the...Queen of Winterfell, was it? Well, she did look wise and regal for the role. Yet, she still had the spike of youthfulness in her, making her not seem like a Queen at all. He idly wondered if her parents treasured the girl as much as he hoped they had. There was no doubt the girl probably missed her parents.

_But since it has so ought to be_

_By a time to rise and a time to fall_

Petyr told him all about the massacre and tragedy that had befallen the Stark family. There was even the little sister, Arya, that was still missing. The last time Petyr saw Arya was back at some old castle. The Doctor hoped she was okay. If there was one thing Sansa deserved more than the love Petyr was offering her, it was reuniting with her little sister.

_Come fill to me the parting glass_

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

Soon they would part ways with Florian and Jonquil. According to Petyr and Sansa, they would help him find Clara. The Doctor didn’t think their help in his search would improve any little chance he had in the beginning, not that their help was useless, but he was beginning to think the worst - that his Clara was most probably dead.

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

That horrid thought was thrown out the windows of his mind when the sound of a slow applause surrounded him.

“That was brilliant, Doctor!” Jonquil squealed, eyes shining with praise for him. He blushed at her words, murmuring his gratitude.

Florian hummed in agreement, “she’s right, Doctor! Your voice is just like a pretty songbird! Just like Jonquil here!” He cackled.

“What’s it called?” Sansa asked, a gentle smile on her face.

“It’s an Irish Traditional song, called the Parting Glass. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sansa nodded.

“Suits the occasion,” Petyr commented with a wry smile, “we’re parting with Florian and Jonquil here.” He gestured to the pair still holding each other. “It’s a farewell song, isn’t it?”

Ever the sharp man, the Doctor chuckled. “Yes, it is.” He turned to address the couple. “We will miss the both of you, you’ve been an absolute pleasure to have.”

The couple stood, and took the Doctor by complete surprise by engulfing him in a group hug. But that surprise disappeared, dropping his electric guitar onto the ground and wrapping his own skinny arms around the couple.

“We will miss you too, Doctor. You and your weird hair and clothes and your blue home.” Jonquil said, her voice muffled by the tight hug. Another body joined their group hug, and it didn’t take long for the Doctor to figure out it was Sansa.

“I’ll miss you two too! You can be sure we’d attend the wedding!” Sansa quipped, giggling along with Jonquil.

The Doctor glanced up, seeing a slightly uncomfortable Petyr standing a few feet away from the huddled group. Poor Petyr, he chuckled. He was as uncomfortable with farewell hugs as the Doctor was a while ago. He was never fond of hugging before, but something changed, and he actually learned to like hugs now.

He decided he wanted to prolong his sufferance at the public display of warm affection. He kept the hug going for more than needed, much to Petyr’s slight annoyance. He could almost see a twitch of his eyebrow. It was a few moments later when the sweet group hug had ended, everyone stepping back with wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“Wonderful. Do you all need more time to hug it out?” Petyr deadpanned.

To the Doctor’s surprise, yet again, Sansa skipped over to Petyr, crashing into his arms with a kiss on the lips. The Doctor’s eyes widened, still not used to their display of affection for each other. He dearly hoped they wouldn’t do any hanky-panky in the TARDIS. The two of them...probably doing in on the control panel of the TARDIS...he shivered. He would abandon the two of them if he were to walk in on them doing the dirty deed.

Much to the relief of his eyes, they parted, and the Doctor fought the urge to smile at the pleased look on Petyr’s face. He looked like a small boy, getting an ice-cream for a treat. It was truly amazing how a woman like Sansa can bring the man to his knees just by a simple gesture as kissing him. There was little doubt Petyr would do almost anything for Sansa.

“Eww….there are some saints here. No need to spread your sinful influence here.” Florian jokingly said, conveniently blatant to the glaring looks he got from Petyr. But his scrunched up face instantly relaxed at the sound of Sansa’s giggles.

It was well into the night now, the end of a long day. They all ought to catch some rest. Florian and Jonquil had the same thought too, when they turned and smiled sadly. “I guess it is time we take leave then, eh?” Florian said, eyes downcast. “It’s been a fun couple of days with all of you.”

“It was.” Petyr nodded. “Still have not forgiven you for pushing me through the bushes of the lake, though.”

Florian laughed. “Mate, if your eyes hadn’t been glued to the beauties in the lake, you would have caught your fall before you actually fell through.” He snickered. Petyr couldn’t resist the smile spreading on his lips, fond of the memory. “Had to be one creepy old man at least once in my life, right?” He joked. But much to his surprise, Sansa quipped beside him, “more like all your life."

The Doctor joined in with Florian’s laughter. Oh, Sansa was definitely a keeper. Petyr glared at Sansa with a look of ‘don’t you dare’.

"Take care of them, Doctor! Make sure their hands aren't on each other every single second." Florian smirked, relishing in the flush that had overtaken Sansa's features. 

The Doctor shivered with an audible mock disgust. "I will try, my friend." 

“Well, we really ought to go now. Remember, the wedding!” Florian winked, tugging Jonquil by his side and turned round to leave their makeshift camp.

“Of course, see you guys there.” The Doctor said, wiping the tears that had leaked out from the corner of his eye from too much laughing.

  
The trio watched as the pair’s form retreated from them, getting smaller and smaller in the distance, before disappearing from view into the light night fog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, a few announcements/comments:
> 
> 1\. This is the end of the Florian and Jonquil arc. After this, the trio will move on to....other adventures. :) 
> 
> 2\. Fun fact: If yall don't know, the actor who plays the Twelfth Doctor in Doctor Who, Peter Capaldi, can actually sing well lol
> 
> 3\. SPOILER (kind of?) ALERT: If you watched DW, you'd know that in the last episode of the latest season, the Doctor actually returned to Gallifrey. 'So why did I write the Doctor not having any memories of Gallifrey or its location then?' Well, because I'm not sure after the memory block he had, whether he still remembered the place or what happened there or even how he got there. So I'm just going to assume he forgot about ever returning to Gallifrey. :) 
> 
> 4\. Lastly, I am going to be busy for the coming week and the week after that, with exams and all that, so I will only be returning with a new chapter on the week beginning 19 December. So sorry! That's why I thought it would be a good time to end the Florian/Jonquil arc here.


	12. Miracles of time travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr brings an old friend home.

 

“Jon, you need to pause for a moment and just listen to me – “

Her brother halted in his steps, his big broad shoulders covered in thick fur slumping with the sigh that followed. It felt like more than a minute had passed before he turned around to face her.

As their eyes met, dark steely on fierce blue, Sansa knew immediately what his response would be. What is had always been for almost every suggestion and advice she gave him. “I can’t do what you ask, Sansa. I’m sorry. Right now, the oncoming wrath of Cersei comes dead last compared to the threat we are about to face beyond the wall.”

She knew that. He didn’t have to tell her. But channelling all their military power towards the undead – which, not many have even seen, let alone believe; would be, in Sansa’s opinion, an unwise decision. It was not that she didn’t believe Jon about the White Walkers coming toward them soon, she trusted her brother – he was family after all. But Cersei’s fury is something that was not to be trifled with, especially so when she was now sitting on the Iron Throne, after burning the sept with wildfire. If that was a warning for her, Sansa would be ignorant not to take it to heart.

With how fast word travelled in Westeros, there was no doubt Cersei heard from her little birds that Sansa was very much alive and had successfully reclaimed her home. An idiot would think that Cersei would just sit and do nothing. And right now, that idiot was none other than her dear brother. 

“You don’t understand. She won’t even let me see the next sunrise when she comes.” Sansa cried.

Jon shook his head, a hard look in his eyes. “I won’t allow it. I will protect you.”

 _I will protect you._ How many times have people swore to protect her but failed? She couldn’t trust anyone with those words. Petyr swore to protect her, but he failed. Brienne swore to protect her, but where was she now? There was still no word from her from Riverrun. When it came to her safety, Sansa was the only person who had her back, no one else.

“She’s a mad queen, Jon. I’m sorry but I don’t think just your protection will suffice. We need to eliminate her as quickly as possible.” 

Her brother was just about to reply, when the doors to the council room creaked open, drawing their attention. Ser Davos’ head popped out, curious eyes darting between the siblings before he beckoned the King of the North into the room.

 “We’re all waiting on you, Lord Snow.”

Sansa sighed, knowing her time with Jon was up. He turned, offering her an apology. “We will continue this discussion later, of course.” With that, he followed the Onion Knight into the council room, joining the other _great_ men who held their futures in their grubby hands.

She swivelled, storming away from the council room. She had to find another way to assure her safety in the walls of Winterfell. Petyr’s face popped up in her head then, her mockingbird sure to be plotting something in a dark corner.

When it came to Cersei, he too was in hot water. He had declared for her and brought the Vale army to her aid, helping her to reclaim Winterfell. Cersei would never sit still with her hands poised in her lap at that. Sansa knew Petyr had struck a deal with the mad queen to be permitted to move the Vale army. Moving an army as huge as the Vale would surely not go unnoticed by the Red Keep. She had no idea what it was, but she intended to find out soon enough. Whatever it was, reclaiming her home had put her in the limelight and right in Cersei’s crosshairs. Out of the many things she’d learned while being under Petyr’s tutelage, it was that being in the limelight was not often an advantage.

Her brisk feet were just about to step through into her warm bedchambers when a pair of strong, lithe arms wrapped firmly around her waist, eliciting a surprised yelp from her. For a few moments, Sansa panicked, unbidden memories of Ramsay flooding her mind. But then the strong smell of mint wafted through her senses and she instantly relaxed in his embrace. Her hand lightly gripping the arms wound around her hips, as she released a sigh.

“Where are you storming off to, my lady?”

His silken voice breathed in her ear, and she shivered involuntarily. Sweet memories of their time spent in Maidenpool rushed back and she found herself smiling, her frustration with Jon and Cersei suddenly forgotten. Sansa turned around in his embrace, pleased to find Petyr, not Littlefinger, smirking down at her. She always hated when she had to deal with Littlefinger, the stubborn sly fox.

“Let me guess, both of us were emitted out of the small council meeting once again?”

She scoffed, catching Petyr’s amused glint in his eyes. He continuously pestered Jon to have a seat in his small council, regardless of the countless times Jon rejected. She knew Petyr wanted to gain insight into Jon’s plan for the North and perhaps persuade him to his advantage. Knowledge was the mockingbird’s power, after all. Sansa resisted the urge to giggle at a conversation she had with Jon a few nights ago about how Petyr was akin to a pest here in Winterfell. The only reason why he wasn’t kicked out already was because Sansa insisted she wanted him close to her, for numerous reasons.

“You’re right, Lord Baelish. Jon has once again cast me and my concerns aside.” Sansa sighed, fingering with the fabric of his doublet.

“It must be irking, not getting what you want.”

Sansa looked up. “You would know.”

Petyr laughed, the smile reaching his eyes. “Yes, I do. Luckily, I have a remedy for your…displeasure.”

The mischievous glint in his dark eyes did not go amiss by her, and she swatted his hand that was edging towards her upper thigh.

“Hardly the right time or place, Lord Baelish.”

Petyr’s eyebrow rose. “Really? How so? All the important people are in a room deciding what to do with their army. The castle’s quiet, we are not watched.” He gestured around the empty halls and she hated to admit that he was right.

His offer was tempting, and this time, she didn’t stop when his wandering hands continued travelling across her body.

“But Cersei…” She sighed and Petyr halted his caress, moving to nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck.

She heard his sigh, before feeling small kisses on the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“You’re right. Cersei will come for us soon. Damn her.” He cursed, a scowl prominent on his face.

Sansa nodded, her hands moving from his shoulders to rest at the nape of his neck, threading the soft hair there.

“We need to act. Jon isn’t going to listen to me about preparing for an attack from Cersei. He is too focused with the White Walkers.”

“If you were the Queen in the North, we wouldn’t have this problem.” He mumbled, almost too softly to hear, nonetheless, she heard.

“Don’t.” She warned.

“Jon is a capable leader. He just has his priorities somewhere else. But we need to prepare for Cersei’s arrival. Together.” She lightly tugged his face from her neck, willing him to look at her.

His dark green grey eyes met hers, staring, transfixed on her blue depths. He nodded in understanding. “What have you done to me, my love?” His gaze dropped to her lips, his pupils dilating as he leaned in.

“I’m utterly bewitched by you.”

Soft lips met hers and Sansa didn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss. She needed this, the warmth and care from the man who had done so many things for and to her. He was so many things to her – her uncle, her protector, her friend, her enemy, her lover. What other things can he be for her?

The kiss ended much too quick, for Sansa’s tastes, and she pouted as he pulled away, a look of excitement on his face. “I have a gift for you, Sansa.”

A gift? That was unexpected. “What is it?”

He chuckled, stepping closer to her and pulled her to his hip. “It’s in my bedchambers.”

Sansa raised a speculative brow at the smirk on his face, but allowed him to lead them to his chamber. “If this is just a ploy to trick me into getting into bed with you, Lord Baelish, I’ll have you know I would be less than amused.” She said with hard eyes but an upward tilt to her lips.                                    

She heard a mock gasp from the man beside her, feigning offense. “My lady! It is not my intention to be coy about such things! I know I can get you in my bed with nothing but the beckoning of my little finger.” Sansa’s jaw dropped, turning to glare at the smirking man. She wanted to slap the grin off his face, but alas, she knew that he was only playing with her.

She felt him tug her closer to his hip as they neared his door. “No, there is indeed an actual gift for you. It’s…unique, I should say.”

Oh? Now Sansa was more than intrigued about his surprise gift for her. As Petyr led them into the warm room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the large, furry, grey-white bundle on his bed. She cast a cautious glance towards Petyr, and her heart raced when she registered the look of excitement and impatience on his features. She could almost see him bouncing on his two feet. She only ever saw the look of pure excitement on Petyr when he was eager to see his plans unravel before him.

“What is it, Petyr?” She whispered, slowing taking wary steps towards the lump of grey fur on the bed. A cloak, maybe? As she neared the suspicious looking object, her heart almost stopped when she saw the faintest sight of movement from the object. Then, before she could reject the idea that it was a brand-new cloak, the object moved, rising from the bed. Twitching ears came to view, and when it turned its head, its snout twitched, registering her presence. Her eyes moved from its twitching nose to its eyes, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of familiar deep yellow eyes staring right at her.

She felt instant tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as she stared at the beast, the other presence in the room long forgotten. Warily but eagerly, she reached out a hand towards the beast that had once belonged to her – no, that still belonged to her, moving to weave her fingers through her fur. When the direwolf made no move of protest, but instead nuzzled her forearm with a small whimper, Sansa broke out into a wide, sad smile, letting her tears fall, her weak knees betraying her at the foot of the bed.

There were sounds of approaching footsteps behind her but she didn’t care for it. If it was a dream, that her most precious direwolf had indeed returned to her, she would never take her eyes away from the moment. Her hands were snugly wrapped around Lady now, her face buried in the crook of her neck. She gripped her furs more than once, to assure her that it wasn’t just a mirage, that the gods were playing a mocking trick on her.

When Lady playfully licked the side of her face, Sansa broke into a fresh wave of tears and cried out her name.

“You aren’t just a dream! Is it really you, Lady?” In response, the wolf gave another wet lick to her cheek, her tail wagging excitedly behind her. Sansa couldn’t believe it. The gods were finally being nice to her, after throwing numerous mishaps her way. They returned her dear friend, the one who they’d unforgivingly gave the Lannisters to slaughter a long time ago, and Sansa momentarily found the world far less ugly.

But, it wasn’t the gods who’d returned Lady, it was the man that was still present in the room, silently observing the emotional reunion. It was the man who was responsible for almost all the emotions she had experienced – hope, relief, anger, lust, happiness, and so much more.

“H-how?” She stammered. She was sure she was looking at him with eyes that rivalled adoration, mesmerisation and even worship, but she didn’t care. He had gone and done something that only the mighty gods could.

To her surprise, there was no hint of smugness in his smile, it was soft and tender, his eyes portraying happiness – not at himself for doing the supposedly impossible, but happiness for her. When he spoke, his voice carried a tone that she’d never heard him use often – sincerity.

“I had help from a mutual friend of ours.” He smiled, eyes trailing from her tear blotched face to the resting direwolf on the fur cloaked bed. She followed his gaze, smiling softly.

“The Doctor.” She whispered, and Petyr nodded. Of course it was the Doctor. Not the gods. The gods never helped her, but cursed her with sadness and sorrow for eternity. She stopped praying to them for that reason. But their friend, who always brought cheer and adventure with him wherever he went. She suddenly missed the Doctor dearly.

She played with the soft furs on Lady, soothing her to a deep slumber. “But how? Isn’t playing with death supposed to fabricate a rupture in time streams or something of the nature?”

Petyr erupted in chuckles, shaking his head at her with a proud look on his face. “My sweetling, how fast you learn about the complexities of time travel.” Sansa blushed, dropping her gaze to her lap.

“The Doctor checked your time stream and the consequences if Lady had been with you throughout your years,” he joined her on the floor, his knees cracking in the process, “Some events had been replaced with the presence of Lady, but no, your timeline was not altered in a major way.”

She couldn’t help but ask, “what events?”

Petyr looked away from her and out the frosted window, there was a distinct pained look etched into his eyes and mouth. “When you had been…violated by those men back in Kings Landing during the Battle of Blackwater, instead of the Hound, it was Lady who had saved you.” There was bitterness laced in his voice when he spoke of the men who had nearly robbed her of her maidenhead.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t there to save you.” She looked up at the sudden confession from him, and her heart stung at the raw look of guilt. A comforting hand reached out to rub his shoulders, and she shook her head. “It was a long time ago. It was mayhem and chaos at that moment. You couldn’t have found me in the mess of a crowd even if you tried.”

He looked like he was about to rebut, but thought better of it, perhaps choosing not to dwell on the sombre past. Instead, he gestured to the sleeping wolf on the bed. “She’s absolutely beautiful, isn’t she?” Sansa smiled, nodding earnestly. She turned to Petyr a while after staring dreamily at Lady. She almost slapped herself for not asking the obvious sooner. “How did you steer her away from my father’s blade?”

Instantly, his dampened spirits lifted, a wide smile breaking out. He looked proud of himself. “Well, before your father went to the kennel Lady was chained to, the Doctor and I made a trip to this planet that fabricated similar looking animals made from a spectacular substance that adopted all likeness of the animal – including its pulsing blood and racing heart.” He winked, nodding at the slumbering animal. “No animals were harmed in the making of her escape.”

Sansa giggled before lunging at him, forcing a surprised ‘oof’ from the man. She hugged him tightly, breaking out into a half sob, half laugh. “Thank you so much, Petyr. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.” Petyr returned her hug with equal measure, patting the back of her head like how a father would to his dear child. “Think nothing of it. It is me who should be thanking you for even allowing yourself to be in my presence, let alone enjoy it, after everything that has happened.”

Guilty Petyr was something she would never get used to, she found. She always had a witty comeback whenever they flirted back and forth, or a clever remark when he taught her something valuable. But when she was faced with this vulnerable side of him, she often drew blanks. So, she could only stare at his sad, glum face, with his downward smile, loss for words.

The silence between them stretched, and before the awkwardness could settle in, Sansa blurted the one thing that was one her mind.

“Where was Lady when I was stuck with Ramsay?”

Petyr sighed, moving to settle his back against the foot of the bed, staring at the locked door. “I don’t know. I didn’t dare travel to that period; I was afraid to relive it, afraid at what I might’ve seen.” Sansa mirrored his movements, leaning her head against the furs of Lady, stroking her paw that was hanging off the bed.

“But she wasn’t harmed, as you can see,” he paused, silently inviting Sansa turned to inspect for any injuries; there were none. “So it’s possible she was either lost to the woods at the time, or held captive in some cell here in Winterfell.” She winced at the thought of Lady chained like some prisoner in her home. She hoped it wasn’t the case. She much preferred if she was running through the woods like the carefree wolf she was, instead of submitting to the cruelty and sadism of Ramsay.

Her thoughts then turned to the kind Doctor. Things at Winterfell had been bustling with information and plans that she hadn’t had the time to ponder about him. Now that she thought about it, she did miss the Doctor dearly. She missed his wild hair, his funky music and his amazing TARDIS. It had been about two weeks since Petyr and Sansa parted ways with the Doctor, their duty in managing Winterfell anchoring them here. Two weeks away from the Doctor and Sansa was already missing the wonders and beauty travelling with the Doctor entailed. She briefly wondered if Petyr missed the Doctor as much as she did. She cast a side glance at the man, who was leaning against the foot of the bed with his eyes closed. If he did, he hid it well. Well, it shouldn’t be surprising, seeing as how he had successfully managed to hide his secret about the Doctor from everyone for the past months. Oh, how he was a master at guarding secrets.

She relished in the comfortable silence, listening to the deep, even breaths of both her companions, Petyr no doubt in a deep slumber as well. Looking around Petyr’s chambers, her eyes stopped at an instant picture on his desk, and she instantly smiled at the memory. It was a picture of all five of them – Florian, Jonquil, the Doctor, Petyr and her, at their wedding. The Doctor had whipped out his polaroid camera and explained to them that it could take instant pictures. She giggled to herself at the memory when he had clicked a button on the camera, triggering an almost blinding flash that scared the hells out of all of them except the Doctor, resulting in the amusing picture of shocked looks, with the exception of the Doctor’s grinning face. Their wedding was a small but joyous and lively affair – they sang, danced, and enjoyed a delicious feast, a vast difference from both her own weddings. Florian and Jonquil said they could visit them anytime they wanted, just not when they were old and grey with no energy for adventure left in them. With how things were badly going for her here in Winterfell, she just might take them up on their offer, or at least escape this maddening place. A home was not a home if she couldn’t even feel safe in it.

As if their lethargy had seeped into her system, Sansa crawled into Petyr’s bed, tugging the furs under her chin, feeling her eyelids quickly drooping. Through hazy vision, she smiled at the silhouette of Lady and Petyr in front of her. Winterfell may not feel like home to her now, but having them around felt plenty enough like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back with another chapter! Moving on to the next arc of the story, which involves more of the Doctor and his troubles.
> 
> Also, I was a bit reluctant to bring Lady into the picture at first, but...heck it, this is a time travelling story for God's sake. Anything can happen. 
> 
> LASTLY, MERRY CHRISTMAS YALL. Hope yall have a fantastic Christmas for those who do celebrate it :) Otherwise, happy holidays and a happy new year! 
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated :)


	13. Getting warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr and Sansa get warm from the harsh cold in Winterfell. Lady is cute as ever. The Doctor returns.

 

When Sansa woke, it was dark, the lit candles casting a soft glow in the room. She could hear the howling wind outside biting the windows, a cold reminder that winter was already here, and no mercy would be shown. Sitting up in the bed, she realised she was alone in the chambers, and she wondered where Petyr and Lady went.

The miracle that Lady was brought back to her was still fresh in her mind, replaying the precious moment when she felt her soft furs once again after forever. But the fact that Petyr had been the one to bring her back caused a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was his purpose in doing that? Was it to manipulate her into trusting him for his own personal gains? Or was it just like he said – to apologise for what he’d done to her? After what they both had been through, she truly hoped it was the latter. She could feel her heart tilting the scales to Baelish’s favour, once again growing dangerously attached to him. She didn’t think her heart would survive if he were to repeat his performance again. She had vowed to stab him through his heart herself if he ever betrayed her again, but now that she held deep affection for him, she wasn’t sure if she could do it if it ever came to that.   

Swinging her legs to the side of the bed, she wondered if Jon had gone to look for her after the council meeting, he said he would. But if he did, he would have barrelled down the doors of Petyr’s chambers a while ago, forcing her awake and demanding to know why she had fallen asleep in the snake’s bed. 

As she righted her gown and hair, tussled from her sleep, she heard the pitter-patter of light footsteps approaching the chamber door, followed by a light scratching whimpering sound. There was a slight pause before she heard a voice grumble, “Alright, alright, just move so I can get the door.”

Immediately, Sansa pattered over to the door and unbolting it before he could, unsurprised to see Lady and Petyr’s amused face.

She was about to ask where’d they gone when Petyr told her. “We went for a little walk around the courtyard, and then she sensed you were awake and pestered me to come back here immediately.” He grumbled, throwing Lady a half-hearted irritated look. “I was enjoying that walk.” He pouted.

Lady barked, her tail wagging excitedly, padding into the room and curling on the bed. “Hey! Clean your paws before you get up there.” Petyr pouted, eyeing the slightly dirtied paws of Lady with distaste.

A chuckle escaped Sansa’s lips and Petyr instantly smiled, giving her a long kiss on the lips. “Good morning, my love.” She returned his smile, throwing a glance at the darkness outside. “Hardly. How long was I out?” She moved aside, letting him in.

“Two hours. The nights are long and the days are short, winter truly is here.” Sansa nodded, joining Lady on the bed. She watched Petyr as he took off his cloak, stoking the low fire at the fireplace.

She scratched Lady behind her ears, smiling when she responded by snuggling close to her. It’s like they were never apart at all, that the many long horrid years were never really a part of her life. Snatching a washcloth by the bed with her other hand, she proceeded to clean the dirt of her paws.

“Jon was looking for you.” Petyr said, still hunched over the cackling fire.

_Ah. So, he was looking for me._ “And?”

He stood and turned to face her, a smirk present on his lips.

“I told him you were in my bed.”

Her jaw dropped. “You didn’t.” If he truly did, she highly doubted Petyr would even be standing before her in one piece with his smugness intact.

“Actually, I did. He just didn’t believe me.” At her perplexed look, he continued, his voice lower and wary. “He didn’t believe me, because he said that you told him – only a fool trusts Littlefinger. He firmly told me his sister was not a fool, hence not believing you were sleeping in my bed.”

Silence hung in the room, the air thick with sudden tension. Even Lady’s ears were perked, eyes on high alert for possible danger. Sansa only stared at Petyr, worried of what he may think. “You know why I said that.” She started, cautiously.

He shook his head, grey-green eyes now staring down at her still perched on his bed. “I thought I was starting to gain your trust back, your confidence in me. I guess I was wrong.”

Blue eyes immediately flashed, sudden anger coursing through her veins. “So you admit then?” She stood up from the bed, and Lady followed her. “You admit that this whole act of yours, was just to gain my trust back.” She spat.

Petyr’s ‘no’ was stern and dangerous. “Don’t you dare believe that. It was not just a simple game to regain your trust. You know it wasn’t, I can see it in your eyes.”

Damn him! Sansa cursed. Damn him for knowing her so well. Sansa truly believed Petyr cared for her, maybe even loved her. But when he had said those words, she jumped at that, at the smallest possible hint that he was starting to betray her again. To be honest, she was scared he would betray her again, because then, who really had her back?

She felt him approach her warily, and she was surprised Lady didn’t move to do anything, and for a moment, the thought that Petyr had even managed to charm her direwolf boiled her blood. Before she had time to react, he engulfed her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. It was only a half a second before she wrapped her arms around him as well.

“I’m sorry.”

It was him who apologised, rubbing soothing circles into her lower back. She felt that she was the one who should be apologising, but when her voice cracked, he shushed her. “Don’t. It’s my fault you’re cautious of me. And it’s good you are. I did tell you not to trust anyone, after all.”

Still, she felt like she needed to at least explain it to him. She pulled away slightly, meeting his soft eyes. “Whenever I was with you, you were two people at times. You were Petyr, my protector, warm and funny and gentle,” she smiled, and then frowned, “but sometimes you were also Littlefinger, the sly lord who was always plotting and scheming and whispering into Cersei’s ear. And Littlefinger is no friend of mine.” She kissed his cheek, “so please understand,” she kissed his other cheek, “why I am so on edge with you at times,” his forehead, “it is Petyr that I have come to care for, not Littlefinger.” She kissed him on the lips, and this time Petyr reacted, guiding her to the bed behind her.

No words were said when he laid her down amongst the furs on his bed, only pulling back from her kisses to admire the sight of her, flushed and staring back at him. When he was about to bend back down to shower her with his warm lips, Lady trotted next to Sansa at the head of the bed, tilting her head in question.

“Well, this is awkward.”

Sansa giggled, telling Petyr to wait. She turned to Lady, ruffling her fur at her neck. “It’s alright Lady. I’m okay.” She felt Petyr move to get off her, opening the door of the room. “Here, do you want to wait somewhere else first while we uhm…” If it weren’t for her mind clouded with lust for the man, she would’ve laughed at his awkwardness with Lady. It was amusing to see how he didn’t mind using vulgarities with people, but with animals? He was as awkward as a small boy with his hands down his pants for the first time. She watched as Lady barked, giving Sansa one last look before leaving the room. Petyr closed the door and sighed, hands on his clothed covered hips. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the bulge in his pants, unconsciously licking her lips. She heard him chuckle as he approached her, his eyes the perfect shade of lust and desire.

When he reached the foot of the bed, she felt her body give in to his lingering touches trailing underneath her gown from her calves, to her knees continuing to her inner thighs. She almost huffed out in frustration when he deliberately skipped the place where she wanted him badly to touch, rolling her eyes at the smirk he gave her.

They didn’t waste time unclothing each other, leaving kisses on each other’s warm skins wherever possible. When they were fully naked with him hovering above her on the bed, she could see his skin prickling, goosebumps raising on his flesh, and she smiled at the little fact that he was so easily susceptible to the cold. The chambers arranged to him had been the closest to the heaters connected to Winterfell, his room being one of the warmest ones, and yet, here he was, a beautiful shivering mess.

With a cool hand, she traced the scar on his chest from collarbone to naval, ignoring the shiver that ran through him. When her fingers had finished the journey, lips replaced fingers, tracing their journey back up to his collarbone. She kissed him then, and when she felt his tongue begging for entrance, she welcomed him in moaning as their tongues met in their familiar dance.

When he broke the kiss, Sansa was about to protest when she heard the barest faint of clattering teeth from him. “Can we go under the covers, please? I’m dying out here.” Petyr shivered.

Sansa giggled, nodding her head moving to pull the furs over them. “Of course, wouldn’t want you to die halfway from the cold. Much prefer you to die from old age than a cold.”

“Ha-ha.” Petyr deadpanned, now visibly better once he was surrounded by warmth. Her smirk faded when she felt his lips wrapped around one of her pink nubs, lavishing her breasts with full care and attention. The hand that was not supporting his weight above her wandered across her pale skin, caressing places that made her whisper his name in pleasure. She could feel his length on her thigh, twitching from time to time whenever she moaned in his ear. The last time they did this, they were on hard ground, twigs and grass poking their nude bodies. She was awfully grateful they had the comfort of plush covers and pillows this time.

She snaked an eager hand down his body, firmly grasping his hard length and pumping it in slow, rhythmic strokes. When he moaned her name, the desire for him intensified, feeling herself becoming even wetter for him. The way he said her name…it was as if her name was the keyword to heaven, and he was begging for entrance.

His hands and mouth trailed southward, placing open-mouthed kisses as he went down her. Her legs automatically parted to make space for him as he reached the apex of her thighs and she held her breath when his talented mouth hovered over the area she wanted him most, blowing small puffs of air into her sopping lips.

When his tongue entered her, she saw stars across her vision and she felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she felt his tongue prod her in places she didn’t know she could feel pleasure from. He was gripping her hips, and she could see that he was rubbing himself against the sheets, relieving himself of some pressure. It wasn’t long before she reached her peak, her breaths coming out in pants.

She looked down and smiled at him, meeting her eyes with a smirk on glistening lips. “Come here.” She whispered, soft hands bringing his body closer towards her chest. “Thank you.” He kissed her, and she could taste herself on his lips. “My pleasure.”

Snaking a hand back down to his length, she guided him closer to her and was just about to guide him in, when he resisted. He brought her chin up to meet his eyes, a look of uncertainty and worry. “Are you ready?” It took her a moment to register that he was still concerned about her after Ramsay. There was a twinging pull in her heart at the showcase of his worry and care for her. Without even doubting, she nodded.

Petyr smiled at her, wrapping his hand around hers on his length and slowly, he entered her fully to the hilt. A gasp escaped her at how full she was, and when she looked at Petyr, the look of euphoria on his face was undeniable. He was still for a moment, letting her get used to the feel of him and when she nodded, Petyr pecked her on the lips before moving leisurely in her.

It felt wonderful to feel him moving in her, slowly pumping in and out of her, the sensation of him pulling back out only to draw back in was toe-curling. But she needed more, the spikes of pleasure weren’t enough, she needed more. Sansa moved to wrap her legs around his hips, pulling his whole body closer to hers as she whispered for him to move faster.

There was no hesitation in the sudden thrust of his hips as he snapped them into her, and they both moaned at the heightened pleasure. She craned her neck to lock his lips with hers, only to pull back when their lungs protested. The obscene, filthy sound of their flesh slapping against each other should’ve brought heat to her cheeks, but it only fuelled her passion for the man and propelled her to chase her peak. Her hips moved in sync with his like they’ve been doing this all their lives, and when Petyr let out an uncharacteristically loud moan, she knew he was close.

Through lust-filled vision she saw him bring a slender finger down to her engorged clit, stroking and pinching it the way she liked. “Cum for me, Sansa.” His husky voice combined with his ministrations on her clit was just what she needed to send her over the edge, crying out his name. She heard him chanting ‘yes, yes, that’s it,’ as she rode out the waves of ecstasy, his pulsing length still thrusting in her. He joined her after a few broken thrusts, drawing her name out from his lips like a prayer.

Petyr stayed burrowed into her neck for a time, both of them catching their breaths. When she caressed his back, she felt him kiss her neck before collapsing onto the sheets next to her. It was only when she felt the sudden empty feeling when he moved off her that she realised he had released his seed into her.

“You came in me.” She said, more of a statement than an accusation.

“I have some morning after pills. From the Doctor.” When she looked at him in confusion, he averted her eyes. Strange.

“What? What pills? Why not the usual moon tea?” She had no idea what he was talking about.

“They work the same as moon tea, don’t worry.”

“Oh.”

Petyr finally looked at her, a soft smile on his lips before he pulled her close, inhaling her sex-crazed hair. “The Doctor gave it to me after our…time in Maidenpool. Said we should be responsible adults.”

She started drawing circles on his chest, deep in thought. “He’s like our father.” Petyr chuckled, the sound and vibrations from his chest spreading a unique warmth throughout her body. “He is, isn’t he?”

Just then, the door to the chambers burst wide open, eliciting a surprised yelp from both occupants. Sansa clutched the covers to her chest, shocked beyond measure at their intruder. Petyr on the other hand, crossed his arms at the man’s lack of sense for appropriateness.

“Really! I bring the dog back to you guys and you just abandon her? Talk about no sense of gratitude.” The Doctor said with his arms akimbo, staring at Petyr and Sansa with disapproval. Lady entered the room between the Doctor’s legs, wasting no time curling up onto the bed by Sansa’s feet. Either she was completely unaware of the smell of sex (which was highly unlikely), or she wasn’t bothered by it. The Doctor on the other hand, was most probably oblivious to what he was intruding upon.

The Doctor closed the door behind him, walking further into the room with his arms crossed and a deep frown. “Explain.”

Sansa was about to stutter out an explanation when Petyr laughed out loud next to her. “Really? You come in here, intruding our privacy and you expect us to explain?” He huffed out, staring hard at the Doctor. But he still seemed unperturbed, tapping his boot on the wooden floorboards. “You guys weren’t doing anything, just lying in bed leaving the poor dog alone in one of the empty rooms.”

Again, Sansa was about to calm the Doctor down when Petyr beat her to it. “We just finished having a round of good sex, Doctor.”

The room was dead silent, except for Lady’s enthusiastic barking, as if she agreed to what Petyr had said. Sansa couldn’t help but blurt out to Petyr, “it was good for you too?” Petyr looked at her like she was a man woman. “Of course it was. The best sex I’ve ever had.” Sansa’s eyes widened, impressed that she was the best he ever had. He was a whoremonger after all, who spent most of his time in Kings Landing surrounded by well-trained whores.

“OK, ok. That’s too much information.” The Doctor interrupted, scrunching his face in disgust. He shielded his eyes from their half-naked bodies, warily sitting down on the edge of their bed, his back turned to them.

When he offered no reason for his still unexplained intrusion, Sansa spoke. “Uhm…don’t put this the wrong way Doctor, we’re glad to see you,” she glanced at Petyr, “but, why are you here? I thought only when we were confident things in Winterfell were quiet we would call you up?”

“I uh…” The Doctor fumbled around in his trousers pockets, looking for something he could not recall. There was a rustling of fabric and when he turned around, he was relieved to see the both of them with their clothes on once again. Lady was snuggled in between Petyr and Sansa on the sheets. He could not help but think they looked every bit a family, with so much love in their eyes. Then, it finally struck him, why he was here in the first place.

“Clara.” He blurted, Petyr and Sansa immediately snapping into attention at the name. “I found a piece of her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back with another chapter -- although this was more of a smut chapter. BUT! With that ending, Sansa and Petyr can no longer stay in Winterfell shagging their days away lol. 
> 
> Sorry this took a bit longer, I've been busy with school and all.


End file.
